Just Feel Better
by Xstrawberry0fieldsforeverX
Summary: She'd tried so hard to put everything that happened at the party behind her.  But one month later, Darcy's past catches up with her and her world comes crashing down again.  PeterxDarcy
1. Just Feel Better

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's really kind of depressing.**_

* * *

_

_She said I feel stranded  
And I can't tell anymore  
If I'm coming or I'm going  
It's not how I planned it  
I've got a key to the door  
But it just won't open _

And I know, I know, I know  
Part of me says let it go  
That life happens for a reason  
I don't, I don't, I don't  
Because it never worked before  
But this time, this time

I'm gonna try anything to just feel better  
Tell me what to do  
You know I can't see through the haze around me  
And I do anything to just feel better

And I can't find my way  
Girl I need a change  
And I do anything to just feel better  
Any little thing that just feel better

She said I need you to hold me  
I'm a little far from the shore  
And I'm afraid of sinking  
You're the only one who knows me  
And who doesn't ignore  
That my soul is weeping

I know, I know, I know  
Part of me says let it go  
Everything must have a season  
Round and round it goes  
And every day's the one before  
But this time, this time

I'm gonna try anything that just feels better  
Tell me what to do  
You know I can't see through the haze around me  
And I do anything to just feel better

I can't find my way  
God I need a change  
And I'd do anything to just feel better  
Any little thing that just feel better

I'm tired of holding on  
To all the things I ought to leave behind, yeah  
It's really getting old, and  
I think I need a little help this time!

Yeah 

_I'm gonna try anything to just feel better  
Tell me what to do  
You know I can't see through the haze around me  
And I do anything to just feel better _

And I can't find my way  
God I need a change  
And I do anything to just feel better  
Any little thing that just feel better 

**_'Just Feel Better' is a song by Santana and Steven Tyler._**

_

* * *

_

_A wave of nausea flooded over her as a pair of rough hands forcefully tore her clothes off. The groping fingers clawed hungrily at her thin, shaking frame. The touch was foreign, unwelcome, and every part of her body told her something was wrong._

_'This isn't Peter.' _

_She wanted to scream, cry, anything, but she found that she couldn't move. _

_"Such a pretty little thing." And the person gently stroked her cheek, ran their fingers through her hair._

_"Please," she tried to plead. Her voice came out soundless. "Please," she tried again._

"Please." She awoke with a start to the sound of her own desperate pleading. Her chocolate eyes darted to the floor immediately.

"Darcy?" Ms. Kwan asked, a trace of concern evident in her voice. "Darcy?" the older woman repeated, though Darcy felt as if she was hearing everything from underwater. Her eyes remained focused on the floor, but she knew that every eye in the room was now on her, watching her, judging her. As the intensity of the stares burned through her, she suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

Without another word, she darted from the room, and sprinted down the hall into the girl's washroom. After several dry heaves, she felt the sour bile rise in her throat, and began to empty the contents of her stomach into the white porcelain bowl. Darcy sat there for several minutes, struggling to hold her head up before the wave of nausea passed. It was then that she realized she was the only one in the bathroom.

She was alone for the first time since the party. In the past month and a half, she'd always been with someone, whether it be Peter, Manny, Emma, or even one case where she happened to get stuck in the same room as Danny and Derek.

Sure, she had been doing better since the party; she had been able to at least talk about it with Ms. Suave. Though it was still a secret from her family, she knew that she had the support of her friends, and especially her boyfriend, Peter, who had been perfect throughout this whole thing.

Even so, Darcy still feared being alone. Still haunted by nightmares, and suppressed memories, she found herself constantly looking over her shoulder, under her bed, in her bedroom closet. He was still out there, whoever he was, and she wouldn't let herself forget that.

Deciding she was feeling somewhat better, Darcy wiped her mouth off with a sheet of toilet paper, and flushed the toilet. As she rushed out of the bathroom, the bell rang, signaling the end of fourth period and the beginning of lunch.

Pushing her way through the crowd of hungry students, Darcy made her way back to Ms. Kwan's room to get her bag. Peter stood outside of the English classroom, holding the backpack out to her, concern clear in his brown eyes.

"Thanks," Darcy said quietly, taking her bag from him. He nodded in response as they began walking towards the cafeteria. Managing to find a somewhat empty table in the overcrowded room, the two sat down across from each other.

"Darcy, are you okay?" Peter asked hesitantly, reaching for her hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the brunette replied, giving him a fake smile.

"Hey Darcy," Manny greeted brightly, sitting down next to Peter. She quickly turned to the blonde boy, "Peter, can you get lost for a second?" He scowled at her, narrowing his eyes as she scooted closer to him, pushing him off the bench.

"Where am I supposed to go? I don't have any other friends!"

"That's really not my problem, nor my fault," Manny said, glancing up at him. "Why don't you go buy us some food, or hang out with your mom or something?" Scowling still, Peter turned to Darcy.

"You want anything?"

"No," she replied, "Not hungry."

"Are you sure-"

"Peter! Go! Now!" Giving him a shove away from the table, the blonde turned to face her friend.

"Darcy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Seriously, Darce. You're falling asleep in almost all of your classes. And this is the fourth time this week you ran out in the middle of class. Emma and Mia said they heard you throwing up in the girls' washroom." Darcy frowned. What was Manny getting at, anyway?

"It's probably just the flu or something…" Manny eyed her skeptically, frowning as she did so.

"Okay… then why are you here instead of staying at home?"

"I don't know…"

"So you come to school, not only feeling like total crap, but also infecting everyone else around you?"

"Manny, would you just drop it! I'm fine!" She snapped, rising from the table. She shoved her way through the crowded cafeteria, heading once again for the washroom.

_'You're falling asleep in almost all of your classes.'_

_'Emma and Mia said they heard you throwing up in the girls' washroom.'_

A feeling of dread rose in the pit of her stomach. Was Manny hinting that she was…

"Darcy?" Manny asked quietly as she stepped into the bathroom.

"What?" She asked, flatly, wishing the blonde would just leave her alone. _It's just the flu,_ she told herself, _so why is Manny making a big deal out of it?_

"Look… you can be annoyed with me… or pissed, or whatever… I'm just worried about you." She paused, her eyes focused on the floor. "Darcy…" she paused, then hesitantly finished, "When was the last time you had your period?"

Darcy forced a laugh, giving her friend a ridiculing look. "That's what you think this is about?"

"Darce-"

"It's the flu, Manny. It's the **flu**. I'm not… I…I _can't_ be. I'm not… I'm not like you."

"Excuse me?" she asked angrily, her nostrils flaring as she glared at the brunette.

"No… Manny… I didn't mean…I just…" She hurriedly fumbled for the right words.

"What?" the blonde spat, continuing to glare at her friend. Darcy found herself becoming frustrated with her friend. Sure, it had crossed her mind once or twice, but now that Manny was here, asking her about it, her fear was becoming more and more real.

She found herself leaning against the wall, sliding down to the floor as her vision became flooded with tears. Her expression softening, Manny sat down next to her friend, wrapping an arm around her.

"I can't… I just can't be…"

"I know you don't need this right now, Darce, but I'm worried about you."

"I… My parents don't even…" she inhaled sharply, sniffling, "I can't," she repeated, and she could no longer keep the tears at bay. She trembled violently, her thin frame wracked with sobs.

"Shh… Honey, it'll be okay," Manny soothed, pulling her friend closer, "it'll be okay."

Darcy was silent for a while. After she had regained control of her emotions, she looked back up at her friend, hope dancing through the sadness of her tired brown eyes.

"It's just the flu, isn't it?" The blonde managed to force a reassuring smile for her friend's sake.

"Yeah, honey. It's probably just the flu."

* * *

**A/n: Well? Like it? Hate it?  
Let me know, so I know whether to continue or not.**


	2. Changes

**A/n: Sorry!! I would have had this chapter up earlier, but I had so much crap due for school. \  
And sorry again for having such a short chapter. I was going to make it longer, but the scene I was going to end it with, I decided was going to be part of the next chapter...**

**Anywho, enough of my rambling.**

* * *

_I'm not suposed to be scared of anything, but I don't know where I am  
I wish that I could move but I'm exhausted and nobody understands (how I feel)  
I'm trying hard to breathe now but there's no air in my lungs  
There's no one here to talk to and the pain inside is making me numb _

I try to hold this Under control  
They can't help me 'Cause no one knows

Now I'm going through changes, changes  
God, I feel so frustrated lately  
When I get suffocated, save me  
Now I'm going through changes, changes

I'm feeling weak and weary walking through this world alone  
Everything you say, every word of it, cuts me to the bone  
I've got something to say, but now I've got no where to turn  
It feels like I've been buried underneath all the weight of the world

I try to hold this Under control  
They can't help me 'Cause no one knows

Now I'm going through changes, changes  
God, I feel so frustrated lately  
When I get suffocated, save me  
Now I'm going through changes, changes

I'm blind and shakin'  
Bound and breaking  
I hope I make it through all these changes

Now I'm going through changes, changes  
God, I feel so frustrated lately  
When I get suffocated, save me  
Now I'm falling apart, now I feel it

But I'm going through changes, changes  
God, I feel so frustrated lately  
And I get suffocated, I hate this  
But I'm going through changes, changes 

_**Changes- 3 Doors Down**_

"Thank you," Manny said, flashing the clerk a fake smile as she was handed a small plastic bag. Darcy nervously peered over the top of a shelf, waited for her friend to leave the store before following her out.

"Manny, I can't do this at my house." She stated abruptly, as the door behind her closed with a slow momentum. Manny nodded in understanding as they began walking down the crowded streets together.

"Well, I would offer to let you do it at my house, but I can't really risk a misunderstanding and get kicked out again." She paused, "Maybe we could go to Emma's…?"

"No," Darcy replied immediately. She absent-mindedly bit her lower lip, her features forming an uneasy expression.

_No one can know about this_, she decided, _not Emma, not my parents, not Ms. Suave, not even Peter_. She frowned_ especially not Peter._ What would he think of her? What would he _do_? Surely she couldn't expect him to stay around while she was pregnant with the child of the man who raped her.

"Okay… then…what?" She paused, looking at her surroundings, "Hey Darcy…" she nodded towards Degrassi, as they were passing the school.

"Manny… I don't know…" Darcy said, hesitantly glancing at the school building.

"Come on, Darce. You have to do it sometime…"

"What if someone sees me?"

"They won't, okay? I'll stand outside the bathroom, stop people from coming in." Manny assured her, gently guiding her friend towards the school building.

_Breathe in, breathe out_ she reminded herself, eyes shut tightly as she clutched the pregnancy test, her stomach twisting into knots.

What if it was positive? She couldn't, _wouldn't_ have an abortion. But then, how could she go through school, a pregnant teen?

She shuddered, imagining the dirty looks she would receive in the hallways; the disappointed faces of her parents; Peter. _Peter_. What was she supposed to tell Peter? She couldn't expect him to play father to a child that wasn't his. A child that was only there because someone had…

_No_ she told herself firmly. _I have to stop thinking about it so much. It was over a month ago._ Bracing herself with a deep breath, she peered down at the small stick.

_Positive_.

Darcy felt nauseous. She quickly shifted her body so that she was leaning over the toilet, and once again emptied the contents of her stomach.

And suddenly everything she'd worried about, just seconds ago became more real. The sneers and cruel jokes of her peers, the disappointment in her parents' eyes; she felt as if she had just lost everything she had been trying so hard to get back. And then she thought about the baby. The _baby_; the child growing inside of her that wasn't even supposed to be there.

Could she keep it? Could she have the child, a living reminder of what happened to her, and stare at its cherubic features, knowing it wasn't even supposed to be here? Would she be able to give it up? What if she unknowingly gave it to a family that would mistreat it?

It felt as though the ground around here was spinning, and she began to feel lightheaded. Leaning against the wall for support, Darcy slowly began to ease herself to the floor. The pregnancy test went lax in her grip. She attempted to take a deep breath, but couldn't seem to get enough air into her lungs. Her breathing rapid and uneven, Darcy began to panic.

The bathroom door slowly opened, Manny peering over the side of it.

"Darcy?" Immediately noticing the brunette's distressed appearance, she darted over to her friend, kneeling down beside her.

"Come on, Darcy, breathe," she urged worriedly.

While she tried to breathe deeply, she noticed the anxious look on her friend's face, and couldn't help but wonder if this was suddenly reminding the blonde of her suicide attempt almost two months ago.

"Come on, Darcy. Take a deep breath."

She nodded, inhaling slowly. Now able to breathe in enough oxygen, she slowly let out the breath, leaning her head back against the wall of the bathroom. Darcy watched as her friend, though she most likely already knew, tried to steal a quick glance at the result of the pregnancy test.

"Oh God… Darcy…" she said softly, glancing over at the brunette. The brunette's eyes lowered, focusing on the floor as she absent-mindedly twisted the silver ring she always wore around her finger. She couldn't look up, couldn't look Manny in the eyes, couldn't face her, couldn't face the world knowing what she did now.

"Well… maybe it's wrong." Pause. "Sometimes women have to take the test multiple times for a true reading."

There it was. The forced reassurance, the false hope that would blind her from the truth.

"Darcy… you should see a doctor. They'll be able to tell you for sure."

She wanted to scream, wanted to push Manny away, hide from this; from everything. Instead, she put on a brave face, swallowed the lump forming in her throat, and nodded.

"Come on, you should get some rest. We can go to the clinic tomorrow and then we'll know for sure." She rose from the floor, extending a hand to the brunette. Darcy took it, allowing herself to be helped up. She picked up the test from the floor and threw it into the trashcan before following her friend out of the bathroom.

_Tomorrow we'll know for sure._

* * *

**Oh, and five reviews for my first chapter XD  
That doesn't happen often in Degrassi fanfics, so thanks guys!**


	3. Warm Whispers

_Your warm whispers  
Out of the dark they carry my heart  
Your warm whispers  
Into the dawn they carry me through  
And I'm weeping warm honey and milk  
That you stay surrounding me, surrounding me_

_Your warm whispers  
Letting me drown in a pool of you  
Your warm whispers  
Keeping the noise from breaking through  
And I'm weeping warm honey and milk  
That you stay surrounding me, surrounding me  
Yeah I'm weeping warm honey and milk that you  
Stay surrounding me, surrounding me  
Honey stay surrounding me_

**_Warm Whispers- Missy Higgins_**

"Ms. Edwards?" She squeezed her friend's hand tightly, looking up from where she was sitting as the doctor entered the room.

"Your tests came back positive." At that moment, Darcy felt as though she had lost everything. The hope dancing in her chocolate eyes vanished, the brave face she had been putting on faltered, and her dreams of college, a job, and her perfect wedding shattered into pieces. She fought back the tears that were forming in her weary eyes, swallowed the lump in her throat, willed herself not to cry.

"You're one month pregnant." He continued talking, rambling on about support systems, people she could talk to, the possibility of abortion, or giving up the child, but she wasn't listening. Thoughts she had been trying to avoid flashed through her mind: Peter leaving her; the dirty looks of her peers and her parents; being kicked out of her home.

"Darcy? You okay?"

_What kind of question is that?_ She thought bitterly, _I'm carrying a child I'm not even sure I want, and I don't know what the heck to do with it._

"Yeah." She nodded, forcing a small smile.

"Come on, let's get you out of here." She found herself following Manny out of the room.

The brunette left the clinic, pulling her coat tighter over her body as a gust of the harsh February wind blew through the air, causing her to shiver. Numbly following her friend, Darcy allowed her mind to wander.

She had never felt more trapped. Trapped with this lifestyle, a consequence of what _he_ had done to her; trapped to make the right decision. She was stuck carrying a child, the offspring of not only her, but of _him_ as well. If her parents didn't kick her out, they would tell her to give it up.

She didn't think she could do that, though. What if the child wanted to one day find his or her parents? What if they found _him_? What if the child was given to a family that would mistreat it?

Part of her wanted to keep it, to protect it from _him_. Then again, her parents would never let her keep it. She didn't have a job to support herself, or the child. If she kept the child, she would never go to college, would never get the perfect future she'd dreamed of ever since she was a kid.

"Darcy," Manny's voice interrupted her from her thoughts. She looked around, realizing that they had arrived at her house. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No," she answered, her voice hoarse from not talking for hours. "I'll be fine."

Manny eyed her skeptically before nodding.

"We'll figure this out, Darce. I promise." She enveloped the brunette in a comforting embrace. Darcy nodded numbly, her features seemingly emotionless. Manny gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to walk home herself.

She wasn't sure what Manny meant by that. There wasn't anything either of them could do to make this better. Darcy was still recovering from what _he'd_ done to her. Now she suddenly found out she was pregnant. She was terrified; of this; of what would happen to her; of her parents not supporting her. For some reason, though, the only thing she could think about right now was the dread she felt when the thought of telling Peter crossed her mind.

XxX

_Her mind screamed in protest as his finger tips brushed against her cheek, ran their way through her hair. She felt claustrophobic with his arms around her, his body on top of her, forcing himself upon her. She wanted to tell him to stop, but the words came out soundlessly. She wanted to shove him off of her, but her arms wouldn't move. She wanted to run away, but her legs wouldn't work._

She woke up breathing hard, her body damp with a cool layer of sweat. Darcy turned on the lights, blinking as her eyes got accustomed to the sudden bright light shining from the lamp on her nightstand. Compulsively, Darcy peered down under her bed, and let out a sigh of relief, as she found nothing but a cluttered pile of papers and old clothing.

However, she still could not shake the overwhelming feeling that someone was watching her. _He_ was watching her. Her eyes darted over to the window next to her bed, tree branches casting eerie shadows through the blinds and the lacy white curtains that were drawn closed over the window.

Impulsively, she reached over to her nightstand, picked up her phone, and called the first person that came to mind.

"Hello?" came the drowsy response. She had obviously just woken him.

"Peter…" Darcy breathed, and her voice came out small, needy. She sounded pathetically close to tears, her breathing hitched and uneven. She had never felt so small, so afraid, so utterly and desperately _alone_.

"Darcy?" He was more alert, his tone worried. "Darcy, what's wrong?"

"I… I…" she stammered, suddenly finding herself at a loss for words.

"Darcy!" he repeated anxiously, urging her to continue.

How was she supposed to answer him? What would justify calling him up at one in the morning other than 'I had a nightmare'? She cursed herself for acting so pathetic.

"Just… never mind."

"No, not 'never mind'," he snapped, "You called me at one in the morning sounding like you were about to cry. Tell me what's wrong," he said, his tone softening, and she could almost see the concerned, overprotective look he had in his eyes when he was worried about her. She remained silent for a moment, trying to regain control of her emotions.

"I just… don't want to be alone tonight," she finished quietly. He was silent for a moment, then, "Okay, I'm coming over."

"No," she said immediately, "Peter, it's one in the morning."

"I know."

"I don't want to bother you…" she paused, "Peter, you don't have to do this. You could get in trouble."

"I know." There was a shuffling noise in the background, "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Unlock your window then."

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't drive here. Your license is still suspended." Darcy reminded him.

He chuckled half-heartedly, "I won't."

The brunette pulled the covers tightly over her body, much like she had done when she was a child and thought there was a monster under her bed. She counted down the fifteen minutes, minute by minute, second by second, and fifteen minutes began to feel like fifteen hours. She half expected _him_ to show up, break in, like he does in her dreams sometimes, but there was nothing but silence as she waited for Peter.

Her body tensed as lights flashed outside the window, the sound of cars passing entered her ears. Eyes shut tightly, she tried to calm herself down; tried to tell herself that she was fine, that _he_ wasn't out there. Darcy mentally cursed herself for letting _him_ affect her like this. She never felt safe alone anymore; always looked over her shoulder for him; had the same recurring nightmares about him; found herself fearing even the smallest movement or noise, thinking it could be _him_ and that _he_ was coming back for her.

There was a slight tap at the window; the shadow of a young man could be seen through the blinds. She almost screamed, but stopped herself. _It might be Peter._ Then again, what if it wasn't?

"Darcy," she heard faintly from the other side of the window. The brunette let out a breath of relief as she recognized the voice. Pulling up the blinds, she unlocked the window, pulling it up enough so that Peter could fit through. He climbed in through the window, turned, carefully; quietly pushing it shut behind him.

He sat down on the bed next to her, took her hand in his.

"Sure hope my parents don't wake up and find you in here," she whispered, forcing a smile.

"Darcy," he said softly, and through the dark, she could see the concern evident in his eyes. "You want to tell me why you called me at one in the morning sounding like you were about to cry?" She was silent for a moment.

"Peter, I don't want to be alone," she admitted quietly, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "Claire's at a sleepover tonight…" Pause, "I…I haven't been alone since…" she trailed off, tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. Eyes focused on the floor, she fidgeted with her abstinence ring. "I can't sleep at night… I have nightmares about it every time I go to sleep." Darcy inhaled sharply, avoiding Peter's eyes. _I'm so pathetic_, she thought, _it's been a month. I should be over this._

"I'm still scared all the time… I can't go anywhere without wondering if _he's_ there somewhere…" Darcy paused. "I know it's a stupid reason for bothering you…" A choked sob escaped her lips and she could no longer swallow the lump in her throat.

His arms were around her instantly, and she wept into his shirt, clinging to him as though he were her lifeline.

"Shh… It's okay, Darce, you're safe. He won't come back for you. _I won't let him_." Though neither of them knew who _he_ was exactly, or where he was, she took comfort in his last few words.

He rubbed soothing circles on her back, whispered reassuring phrases in her ear, held her in an embrace that made her feel safe; that almost made her forget about what she had learned today. He started to run his fingers through her hair. She froze immediately at the gesture; pulled away from his embrace.

"Darcy?" The brunette sat, held her face in her hands, trying to regain her composure.

"Sorry." She remained silent for a moment before turning away from him. "I should get some rest."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No," came the immediate response. She shook her head, closed her eyes, "Sorry." She paused, "You don't have to stay… I don't want to get you in trouble or anything…"

He smirked, "Me? In trouble? That's a new one." She smiled a true smile for the first time that day.

"It's fine. I don't usually get up until 12, so as long as I can sneak back in before then, my mom won't notice." Peter rose from the bed, pulled the covers over her as she lay down. He sat down on the floor, leaning his head against the side of her bed as she closed her eyes, feeling much safer now that he was with her. Darcy smiled, feeling his hand close around hers, gently massaging it.

"Peter?" she whispered hesitantly.

"Yeah, Darce?"

"Do you love me?"

"Yeah, Darcy, you know I do."

"So you would stay with me no matter what?" she whispered.

"Yeah. Why?" He asked softly as he stopped massaging her fingers.

"No reason."

At that moment, she decided she would be able to tell him. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but with time, she could tell him. Peter didn't care about most things or most people, but ever since they had started going out, he had been trying to become a better person. For her. She was one of the only things that mattered to him and she knew he would be there for her; do anything for her. She let out a breath of relief, felt Peter's hand squeeze hers lightly, and smiled, feeling a lot better than she had in days.

* * *

**Blah... it's been a while since I saw 'Eyes without a Face'. From what I remember, I thought she shared a room with her sister... if I'm wrong... she does in this story... **

Time to review. You know you want to. :D 


	4. Run Like Hell

_Run, run, run, run  
You better make your face up in  
Your favorite disguise  
With your button down lips and your  
Roller blind eyes  
With your empty smile  
And your hungry heart  
Feel the bile rising from your guilty past  
With your nerves in tatters  
When the cockleshell shatters  
And the hammers batter  
Down the door  
You better run_

_**Run Like Hell- Pink Floyd**_

Sunlight streamed through the windows as birds chirped happily outside early Saturday morning. Darcy awoke to the sound of low voices engaged in conversation downstairs. She yawned quietly, blinking her eyes several times as she adjusted to the lighting. The brunette shifted under the white sheets, but froze at the low breathing she heard below her. Glancing at her hand, still enclosed in Peter's, she remembered that he had stayed the night, and immediately felt safer.

"Peter," she whispered somewhat loudly. She rolled her eyes when he did not move and shook him lightly. "Peter."

"Unnh?" Darcy smirked, giggling slightly as he looked around in confusion.

"Peter, you have to get home. Otherwise my parents will find you." Realization flooded over his face, and he slowly rose from the ground, holding a hand on his back for support as he grimaced in pain.

"Sorry," the brunette apologized, frowning slightly, "You must have been so uncomfortable…"

"Darcy, I sleep in an attic," he reminded her wryly, "Besides," he said, turning to face her, "You needed me." She smiled shyly, gazing down at the floor; a cluttered mess of clothes and her sister's belongings.

"Thanks for staying," she said, leaning in to hug him. He accepted the gesture, long arms wrapping around her waist.

"Well, like I said, I hate seeing you unhappy. And I know it's been hard for you lately… and I just want to make you happy. I love you, Darce." She looked up at him, her lips forming a brilliant smile. More than anything, she _loved_ hearing him say that. There was something comforting, reassuring about his words that could always make her feel better. Perhaps it was knowing that while she was probably the first and only person he'd ever said them to, she knew he meant them; knew that they were heartfelt and sincere.

"I love you too." Darcy stood on her toes, pressed her soft lips against his. Stepping down and pulling away from him, she beamed at him. Smiling back, Peter turned and made his way over to the window.

"As much as I'd love to stay, I think I'd rather your parents not kill me," he said, opening the window and starting to climb out.

"And as much as I'd love you to stay, I'd rather they didn't kill you either."

"Maybe we can do something later today. Something that doesn't involve me sneaking in and out of windows and the risk of being killed by your parents."

Darcy bit her lip thoughtfully. While she wasn't sure she wanted to go out today, she did want to spend more time with her friends, with Peter. Truth be told, she really just needed to take her mind off of everything for a while.

"Sure I'll call Manny later." Now halfway out the window, Peter could be heard grumbling something about how Manny still hated him. Darcy rolled her eyes, turning around as she began to make her bed.

"Darcy?"

"Yeah?" She asked turning to face him. He stood on the roof, his upper body leaning in towards the window, facing her.

"Last night… you asked me if I would stay with you no matter what…what was that about?" The brunette froze, turning around again. She kept a neutral expression on her face, shaking her head as she did so.

"Nothing… I was just freaked out is all…"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Peter. I'm fine." He glanced worriedly back at her before nodding and making his way down the roof. Darcy shook her head, rolling her eyes. Months ago, he was planting drugs in Sean's locker and posting pictures of her on the internet. Months ago, he wouldn't have cared about anyone's feelings but his own. Now he had done a complete 180, came to her house at one in the morning to comfort her, wasn't afraid to admit that he loved her, and kept asking how she was doing. In fact, he had been so concerned the first few weeks after it happened that it had started to get on her nerves.

She made her way downstairs, a feeling of dread growing in the pit of her stomach as she neared the last step. The conversation going on in the kitchen immediately stopped, and she entered, forcing a smile as she glanced up at her parents. Darcy couldn't stand to be around them lately. Any time she was near either of them, all she could think about was telling them.

What would her parents think when they found out that she had lied those two months ago to get out of the retreat; that she had gone to a party with Peter instead; that she had been _raped_?

"Good Morning, Darcy," her mom greeted, much like she did everyday.

"Morning," Darcy replied quietly, eyes darting to the floor as she opened the refrigerator, reaching for a quart of orange juice.

"How are you feeling today?" her father asked, as he had been doing everyday since her suicide attempt. Darcy forced a smile, as she had always done in response to the question.

"Fine."

XxX

"I don't know… It just seemed like she had something else to tell me." Peter said, glancing up from the table to meet Manny's eyes. Surrounded by the din of clattering plates and glasses, they sat in a booth together at the Dot, waiting for Darcy to arrive.

"If she does, she'll tell you. Give her time. If it has to do with what happened, you can't expect her to tell you right away," Manny replied.

"I just want her to feel like she can trust me," Peter said, gazing thoughtfully out the window at the passing groups of people, wondering if one of the people out there was the one that had done this to Darcy. He decided that if he ever found out who it was, he would kill them. No. He would destroy this person; destroy them as they had destroyed Darcy. He wanted to make them as afraid as they had made her, wanted to make the son of a bitch pay for every single thing he had taken away from her.

"Peter," Manny said, her tone sincere, voice interrupting his thoughts, "There's probably only one person on this entire planet than _can_ trust you… and that's Darcy." Turning back to face the blonde, he gave her a small smile.

"I hope you're right…"

XxX

The brunette stepped out of the car, quietly thanking her mother for the ride. After closing the door, she heard her mother drive away behind her. While she could have driven herself, or even walked herself, she still couldn't seem to get over her constant fear of being alone.

Glancing up, she immediately felt reassured when she saw Peter and Manny though the window, waiting for her. Darcy pushed open the door and entered the restaurant. The clanging of dishes and glasses as well as the calling of orders and the noisy conversations of the groups of teenagers filled her ears as she stepped inside.

"_I just want her to feel like she can trust me,"_ she heard Peter say as she neared the table where he sat with Manny, immersed in what seemed to be an important conversation. She couldn't help but smile as she felt some of the weight being lifted from her shoulders. _I can tell Peter,_ she told herself confidently, _it's my parents I have to worry about._

Even though she felt she could tell Peter, that she could trust him and Manny to help her get through this, she still had to tell her parents everything. She tried, however, not to think about this, as it made her feel physically ill. Yesterday when she had left the clinic, she decided to push everything to the back of her mind; to ignore it until she couldn't anymore. As long as she could pretend it wasn't happening- that she lived in an alternate universe where she led a perfect life with her perfect friends and her perfect boyfriend and she was perfect; untainted; and _not_ pregnant- she was fine.

"_There's probably only one person on this entire planet who **can** trust you… and that's Darcy."_

"_I hope you're right."_

Pushing away any thoughts of _him_ or the fact that she was carrying _his_ child, she forced a smile. She was fine.

"Hey guys," she greeted, her voice sounding unusually cheerful as she took a seat in the booth next to Peter.

"So what do you want to do?" Peter asked. Darcy shrugged submissively in response.

"Let's go to the mall," Manny suggested, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"No," Peter stated firmly, his blue eyes wide with fear, "I've been to the mall with _you_ before." He turned to Darcy, "She and Emma started treating me like I was a freaking shopping cart."

"I don't see the problem here," the blonde said, smirking.

"Yeah, you weren't the guy walking around holding Victoria's Secret bags." Darcy wrinkled her nose in amusement, giggling slightly at the thought of her boyfriend trailing helplessly behind the two girls carrying bags full of girls' underwear.

"It's not funny," Peter said, feigning solemnity, "A guy can only be laughed at, assumed to be some kind of transvestite, and called a pervert so many times in one day. It was a traumatic event."

"Aw, poor baby," Darcy said with a laugh, placing an arm around him.

"It's not funny," he replied, his features still displaying a serious expression.

"Actually it is. But don't worry… I wouldn't do that to you. I don't really feel like going to the mall anyway."

"I second that," Peter said immediately. He turned to Manny, "You lose."

"Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes, "What do you feel like doing, Darce?"

"I don't know…" Darcy replied, absent-mindedly playing with a loose thread on the sleeve of her shirt. "Maybe we could just hang out in the park?"

"Okay," Manny agreed.

"What?! It's freezing outside!" Peter started to protest, but was silenced by a glare from Manny.

The fact that it was freezing outside was one of the endearing qualities about going to the park. The less people there, the less chance that _he_ was there.

"Fine," he said, watching as the two girls stepped out of the booth. He rose from his seat, stepping out of the booth as well. "But let me get some coffee so I don't freeze my ass off out there." He paused, "Sorry. So I don't freeze my _butt_ off." Darcy rolled her eyes, shoving him playfully.

"Peter, get me a mocha latte," Manny commanded, pushing him towards the counter. Peter rolled his eyes, but figuring that he still owed her, complied.

"Darcy, do you want anything?"

"Actually… can you get me a coffee? Decaff." Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Decaff?"

"Yeah."

Moments later, Darcy made her way out of the restaurant, the harsh, cold winds rushing through her hair as she walked beside Peter and Manny, taking comfort in their presence. Peter was suspicious, she knew that for sure, and she silently prayed that he wasn't going to bring it up any time soon. The brunette knew she could tell him; she just wasn't ready today. Darcy didn't want to think about it, let alone talk about it. So she walked beside the two, listening as they talked, the words of her best friend and boyfriend blocking out the thoughts that threatened to creep back into her mind; the thoughts she had wanted to desperately to hide from; the thoughts that were slowly killing her inside.

"Darce?" Peter asked, noticing that she hadn't said anything in a while, "You okay?"

Darcy looked up at him, forcing a smile, "Fine."

* * *

**A/n: Sorry for the wait...**

**My goal was to have a new chapter up every other day... but I failed because:  
1) I was busy helping out with my school's coffee house this week.  
and  
2) My brother was on the computer for hours reading about Scooby Doo on Wikipedia... (very productive, I know...)  
Yeah.  
So this chapter wasn't that intersting... but I didn't want to rush into things.  
There's going to be a lot more happening with Darcy than the pregnancy, which you'll probably find out about in the next chapter.**

**Oh, and thanks for all the reviews**

**XD  
**


	5. Haunted

_Long lost words whisper slowly to me  
Still can't find what keeps me here  
When all this time I've been so hollow inside  
I know you're still there _

Watching me, wanting me  
I can feel you pull me down  
Fearing you, loving you  
I won't let you pull me down

Hunting you, I can smell you - alive  
Your heart pounding in my head

Watching me, wanting me  
I can feel you pull me down  
Saving me, raping me, watching me

Watching me, wanting me  
I can feel you pull me down  
Fearing you... loving you  
I won't let you pull me down 

**_Haunted- Evanescence_**

He watched longingly from the park bench, his eyes following her every move as she walked beside two blondes- a boy and another girl. The boy had his arm around her, too close to her for his liking and he scowled, looking away as her eyes darted in his direction.

She was as beautiful as he remembered from that month and a half ago. Soft brown hair fell over her dark chocolate eyes, which sparkled with excitement as she turned to the boy, her soft, silky lips forming a smile. Around her, he could see the aura of innocence that she brought. His eyes lowered to the curves of her waist, swinging slightly back and forth as she walked, and he smiled a twisted smile, remembering how beautiful she was when the barriers of clothing had been torn away.

Every once in a while, she would isolate herself from the conversation that was going on between the three. A pensive, worried look would appear on the features of her face. She would sometimes glance over here, sometimes over her shoulder.

Even still, he watched. Watched her smile, watched the fear in her eyes. He watched and waited, and knew that soon she would be his.

**XxX**

"I think that old lady has her eye on you, Peter," Manny joked, throwing her cup of coffee away as they passed a trashcan on the nearly deserted sidewalk. Peter turned around slightly, seeing an old woman who sat on a park bench surrounded by birds. She eyed him fondly, flashing him a smile as he glanced over at her.

"I don't blame her," Peter said, his lips forming a cocky smirk.

"Well she'd better back off," Darcy said with a laugh as she grabbed her boyfriend's arm protectively, turning her head slightly to watch the older woman's reaction.

"She doesn't like you, Darce," Manny informed, then rolled her eyes as Peter leaned over and kissed the brunette's forehead. Darcy smiled, wrapping an arm around his waist as she pulled herself closer to him. He placed his arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture.

"If you two want to have your little love fest over there, I can leave," Manny said, rolling her eyes, hoping to make sure her presence was not forgotten.

Darcy, who had been looking at the ground, looked up and opened her mouth to say something, but froze. Several yards away from them, on a park bench, sat a man who looked to be in his mid twenties. Dark hair covered the top of his head. His lips curled into a scowl and his dark piercing eyes were fixed in her direction. Long muscular arms were covered with a black winter coat and his hands fidgeted restlessly as he turned away from her.

In the background, she was aware of Peter and Manny repeating her name worriedly, but it sounded as though they were far away and she couldn't take her focus off the man. Though Darcy was sure she had never seen him before, the sight of him sent a shiver down her spine. Shuddering involuntarily, she shook her head, turning away from the man.

"Darcy?" Manny's voice came, sounding clearer than before. Blinking, Darcy turned to her friend.

"Sorry, what?"

"I don't know, you tell me. You kinda just stopped and started staring in some random direction with this…weird look in your eyes."

"Oh… sorry."

"Are you okay?" She asked, concern evident in her chocolate eyes.

"Yeah." The blonde eyed her skeptically, a knowing look accumulating with the concerned one in her eyes. "I'm fine, _really_," she insisted, starting to feel annoyed with her friend.

"Darcy-"

"I said I'm fine!" Darcy shouted, stepping away from the two. She turned away from them, her eyes passing over the man again, and bit down on her lip, feeling uncomfortable with him near. She let out a sigh, her breath visible as it cut through the cold, still air. Reaching up, she pushed away loose strands of hair that lay in front of her eyes as a result of the harsh, rushing winds and held a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes as she once again exhaled deeply. The girl tensed, feeling a hand slowly place itself on her shoulder. Heart beating faster, fear evident in her wild brown eyes, she spun around to face the person.

"Darcy, what's wrong?" Peter inquired softly as he reached for her hand.

There was no way, she figured, that they would believe her if she said 'I'm fine' again, after that outburst.

"Darcy, don't get mad at us, okay?" Manny said quietly, "We're just worried. I mean, one minute you were joking around with us, and the next…"

"I know," she said in a small voice, gazing out into the openness of the bleak, desolate park. The scene before her was played out as though it were something from a horror movie. The gloomy grey sky hung over them with promises of a snowstorm. Dark, lifeless trees swayed back and forth through the frigid air. And he sat, on the park bench, his gaze fixed on her, chilling her to the bone. "Just… can we go back to the Dot?"

"I thought you wanted to come here…" Peter started, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"_Please_. Can we just go back to the Dot?" He nodded, exchanging troubled glances with Manny. Wrapping an arm around her protectively, he turned around and they walked back towards the park entrance, Manny close on the brunette's other side.

**XxX**

She glanced in his direction, perhaps in what was only sheer curiosity, and froze upon seeing him. The boy's arm around her pulled her closer, still not realizing what was going on, and he sneered watching the two.

She had no idea who he was, not having remembered that night as well as he did, but something told him that part of her recognized him. He turned away, feeling the brown-eyed beauty's eyes boring into him. Though no longer facing her, nor anywhere near her, he could see the fear in her eyes, hear her panicked breathing as she watched him. Once again, his thin, pale lips twisted into a smile. _She_ was watching him this time.

**XxX**

She didn't know why she had gotten so freaked out over it. It was just some random guy in the park, who just happened to be staring at her. Guys had stared at her before, hadn't they? She had once _wanted_ guys to stare at her.

Why then, was she freaking out over this one guy? Why, only minutes ago, did she find herself panicking under the gaze of some random guy?

"Hey," Peter said quietly, as he slid into the booth beside her, placing a cup of coffee in front of her. She sat quietly; head resting on her hand as she stared out the window. "You okay?" He asked, for what seemed like- and probably was- the millionth time that day.

"Yeah," Darcy replied softly, turning towards him. "Just…tired." He frowned, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Do you want me to get you a regular coffee instead?" Peter inquired, motioning to the decaff coffee he had just brought her.

"No," she replied passively, eyeing the cup without interest.

"Darce…" the blonde said, his features displaying a look of confusion. Manny, who had been watching the two, suddenly rose from her seat.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she said, flashing the brunette a look as she left the table. Peter glanced over at Darcy, noting the recognition in her eyes at the look she received from her friend.

"Look… I'm not an idiot. You and Manny have been acting weird all day…" He paused, gently took her hands in his as he looked her in the eyes, his crystal orbs clear with worry. "What's going on, Darcy?"

The brunette looked away. She wanted so badly to tell him, but she hadn't wanted to do it today. She hadn't expected that she would have to tell him today. Looking back up into his patient blue eyes, she felt that she couldn't keep this from him any longer. She could trust him.

"Peter," she started, feeling a lump start to form in her throat as she imagined every possible thing that could go wrong after he found out. Darcy licked her lips, felt her body tense up as she opened her mouth again, "Peter, we have to talk…"

* * *

**What, did last chapter suck or something? I only got two reviews (which I appreciate, by the way) :[**

**But you know you want to review this chapter... right?**

**Right? **

Oh... Just in case this has crossed any of your minds... Some of you might think Peter's kind of out of character... but I think that when something happens like this, he's good at being there for people (ie. Our Lips are Sealed, Standing in the Dark, Death or Glory...) Plus, Darcy totally made him a better person. ;-) 

**Well, that's my little... thing for today.  
You can review now. It would make me the happiest little dork on the whole entire planet. :)**


	6. Whisper

_Catch me as I fall  
Say you're here and it's all over now  
Speaking to the atmosphere  
No one's here and I fall into myself  
This truth drives me  
Into madness  
I know I can stop the pain  
If I will it all away _

Don't turn away  
(Don't give in to the pain)  
Don't try to hide  
(Though they're screaming your name)  
Don't close your eyes  
(God knows what lies behind them)  
Don't turn out the light  
(Never sleep never die)

I'm frightened by what I see  
But somehow I know  
That there's much more to come  
Immobilized by my fear  
And soon to be  
Blinded by tears  
I can stop the pain  
If I will it all away 

_**Whisper- Evanescence**_

_Darcy licked her lips, felt her body tense up as she opened her mouth again, "Peter, we have to talk…"_

She felt him squeeze her hands lightly, reassuringly, and she gazed into his eyes, taking comfort in the love she saw in his light blue orbs.

Her trust in the blond bringing her self-assurance, she opened her mouth; began to speak.

"Peter," she paused, "I…"

There were only three words. She only had to say three words, and the weight of telling Peter would be lifted from her. She only had to say three words and she would discover if his love for her was enough to keep him around. She only had to say three words and she was two-thirds of the way there, but she found herself in desperate fear of knowing the truth. Would he stay with her, knowing that she was carrying the child of her _rapist_? _Could_ he stay with her knowing that she was tainted? Could he understand that she wished more than anything that this was his child, and that he had been the one she had lost her virginity to? As the two words escaped her lips, she felt drained of all the confidence she had only seconds ago. She couldn't do this. _Not today_.

Peter waited patiently, his expression urging her to continue.

"Never mind…" she mumbled, eyes darting to the floor.

"Darcy, obviously something's bothering you…" he paused, his eyes shifting to meet hers. "Please tell me what's wrong."

"No… forget it…" Darcy replied quietly. She turned her head slightly, avoiding the concern etched upon his face as he pleaded for her to continue. Gazing out the window, she half expected to see the man with the dark piercing eyes. Darcy shivered slightly thinking about the eerie man's threatening scowl, and the chills it sent down her spine.

"Darce…"

"Forget it, okay?" She snapped irritably, yanking her hands out of his grasp.

"Darcy, I just want to-"

"I said forget it!" She yelled, abruptly standing up from where she sat, the sudden movement shaking the table, causing her coffee to tip over, the dark liquid quickly running across the top of the table. Pivoting on her heel, the brunette stormed out of the restaurant.

She stood alone in front of the restaurant, brows furrowed in frustration as she stared at the bleak landscape before her. Darcy shut her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, needing to calm herself down. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. A lump formed in her throat that she wasn't sure she could swallow this time, and she felt sick to her stomach as the thoughts she had pushed to the back of her mind once again began seeping into it; the feeling of dread growing with every thought, every worry, every fear.

"Darcy…" She heard Peter whisper from behind her. There was something in his voice; something besides concern; something that sounded a lot like pity. Scowling, she spun around to face him, her furious eyes examining the fierce over protectiveness and concern, plain in his features.

"Peter, let it go."

"I can't." his tone was firm and unyielding, yet his voice was soft, gentle. He stepped closer, reaching for her hand compassionately.

"I said let it go!" She shouted angrily, taking a few steps back as she wrenched her hand out of his grasp.

"I'm just worried about you!"

"Just _leave me alone_!" Darcy yelled, shoving him backwards. She immediately pivoted away from him, avoiding the hurt expression she knew her boyfriend wore, not caring that she was the cause of it, and she ran.

She didn't know where she was running; only knew that she had to run and keep running to get away from all of this. She came out today to spend time with her friends; to try to forget everything. Instead, she had ended up getting freaked out over seeing some man in the park, and every time she thought of him, she also thought of _him_. Instead, she had almost told Peter she was pregnant. Instead she had shoved him and run away from him, and she couldn't stop the haunting thoughts that were creeping back into her mind.

Darcy walked down the crowded sidewalk, pulling her coat tighter over her body as she hugged it to her chest. Her eyes shifted anxiously back and forth between the hordes of people she was passing, careful to avoid contact with any of them. She focused on her boots, on the thud of each shoe hitting the concrete, drowning out her thoughts and the din of the people surrounding her.

Feeling someone brush against her shoulder, Darcy looked over her shoulder, her distrust in people getting the best of her. Dozens of people surrounded her; lovesick girlfriends clinging to the arms of their boyfriends; children begging their mothers to take them to a certain store, buy them a certain thing; old married couples; irritated preteens walking with their parents, and the crowds of people surrounded her in a blur. The only face that stuck out was the man from the park.

The brunette blinked, praying it was all a dream, wanting to believe that she was going insane and that he wasn't really there. Her eyes closed for a fraction of a second, and when she reopened them, nothing had changed. He was still there, haunting eyes following her every move.

A wave of nausea flooded over her.

He was watching her. Why was he watching her? Was he following her? How long had he been following her? And who the _hell_ was he?

Panicking, Darcy began to feel lightheaded, her breathing uneven and shallow. She felt suffocated, like there wasn't enough air around her; claustrophobic, like there wasn't enough space around her. Like _he_ was on top of her.

Still struggling to catch her breath, the girl leaned herself against the side of a building, easing herself slowly to the ground.

"Are you okay, young lady?"

"Ma'am are you okay?"

"Young lady?"

Worried, urgent voices surrounded her, though she couldn't concentrate on them or what they were saying. All she could focus on was the fact that she couldn't breathe; that there wasn't enough space around her, and that he was coming closer and closer by the second.

_She was only half conscious, but awake enough to realize that someone was on top of her. His arms were around her, naked body pressed against hers, and he kissed her forcefully, eagerly. He was over her, his arms trapping her, suffocating her. She whimpered at his touch, his smothering kisses, the feeling of his fingers caressing her cheek. She couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. She was helpless, hopeless. She was trapped._

Darcy inhaled sharply, feeling only a small portion of the air fill her lungs. She hugged her knees to her chest in fear as more people joined the commotion around her. Brown eyes wild with fear, she anxiously glanced up. There, behind the crowd of worried people, was the man from the park, bearing the same scowl, the dark eyes piercing through her. Her breathing sped up, more shallow and uneven than before as he made his way over to her.

The man's body seemed to morph before her eyes, becoming an image of what she believed _he_ would look like. He broke into a run, sprinting towards the crowd, and then changed back into the man from the park. The man continued to morph before her eyes, and she felt dizzy, suffocated, _terrified_.

"Hey!" He yelled, sprinting towards the crowd. Several people turned around as he neared them. "Get the hell away from her!" The man she formerly saw as _him_, became the man from the park once again. Darcy blinked rapidly, feeling petrified at his presence, but after opening her eyes, saw him for who he really was.

"Come on, Darcy, breathe," he said, sitting down next to her. "Get the hell out of here!" He yelled again at the crowd of people who had continued to watch.

"Come on, Darce… it's okay. You're okay." He said, his words rushed, a hint of panic in his own voice as he wrapped his arms around her trembling form. She tensed for a moment, but then welcomed the touch, leaning into his embrace. It was just Peter.

"Darcy," he said quietly, his eyes gentle and compassionate, "What's going on with you? You were doing so much better. I thought the worst of this was behind you."

The brunette, still being cradled in her boyfriend's arms, looked up, meeting his worried gaze. Her brown eyes were filled with a sudden sadness, a painful misery he had never seen in her eyes before, and it shattered his heart into pieces to see that kind of despair in the once excited and hopeful pair of chocolate eyes.

"Peter," she whispered desperately, tears clinging to the dark lashes that surrounded her desolate brown eyes. She threw her arms around the blond, holding on as if he were her lifeline, and began to sob uncontrollably into his shirt.

Peter pulled her closer, held her tightly in his arms, ignoring the stares of passing men and women who acknowledged them with ignorant glances. She was trembling so violently, it almost shook him as well, and he was afraid to pull her fragile, shaking frame any closer, as he thought he might break her.

"It's okay, Darce… It's okay…" he soothed, gently rocking her thin frame as she wept in his arms.

She stayed in his arms, taking comfort in his words, his touch, his presence. Her breathing, once rapid, slowed, the pain in her chest dissolved, and she sat, head buried in his chest, feeling safe, protected.

"Darcy," she heard him saying, "I'm worried about you… and I want to know what's going on. But if you're not ready… then you don't have to tell me anything."

In a precipitated movement, she glanced up, looking him in the eyes, as the three words she had been dreading escaped her lips.

"Peter, I'm pregnant."

* * *

**Thanks for all the reviews last chapter.  
I especially liked that I got actual responses to what you guys liked about the chapter and stuff instead of just saying it was good...  
But I appreciate every review.  
So thanks.  
You _did_ make me the happiest dork on the planet. (Or one of them, at least...)****  
**


	7. Save You

Peter felt her shift in his arms, met her tear filled eyes as she looked up at him.

"_Peter, I'm pregnant." _

He stopped rocking her, and froze, eyes wide with fear.

A sickening feeling rose in the pit of his stomach: _guilt_. If he hadn't gotten mad at her at the party, she never would have left his sight. He wouldn't have gotten drunk and left her lying passed out on the couch. _She wouldn't have been raped._

She looked up again, terrified eyes sparkling with tears.

"Are you mad at me?" She asked in a small voice, worry etched in her features. If his heart could have broken any more than it already had, it would have at that moment. Darcy continued to stare at him, anxiously awaiting his answer.

"No," Peter said firmly, angrily. And he wasn't angry with her for asking the question. He was angry with himself for not having protected her from this. He was angry at the bastard that had done this to her. **He** had stolen her virginity. **He **had destroyed her; her trust in people, her confidence, her innocence, everything she believed in. **He** had destroyed the old Darcy and left nothing but an empty shell of who she used to be. The new Darcy was paranoid, constantly afraid, _broken_. And the blond longed to have the old Darcy back. He wanted to see her smile; a smile that wasn't fake or forced. He missed hearing her laugh, beautiful, graceful, like bells ringing in the air. He missed her teasing, her faith in people, the way she would shake her head and roll her eyes when she laughed at him. He longed to see her happy. The new Darcy only faked happiness. The old Darcy brought joy to everyone around her with a smile that could light up a room.

"You sound mad."

"I'm not," Peter growled, then stopped himself. His expression softened, and he mentally cursed himself for making her think that his anger was directed towards her.

Before he met Darcy, Peter didn't even know what love was. Darcy was the first person that he'd actually loved; the first person that he actually felt loved by, and some bastard had come along and fucked up her life for good. But as angry as he felt, he couldn't focus on that now. All he could focus on was the broken girl in his arms who gazed up at him with hopeless, desperate eyes.

"I'm not," he repeated, and this time his tone was softer. "I'm not mad, and I'm not going to leave you."

"I'm so _fucking_ scared, Peter," she whispered, felt his arms tighten around her. "I wanted so badly to put this all behind me…" She paused, a small, bitter laugh escaping her lips as she rolled her eyes.

After a brief period of silence, Darcy sniffled and shook her head, trying to regain her composure, but failed. Her lower lip trembled and she drew in a shaky breath. "No matter what I do, I can't forget it. I can't forget _him." _She paused again, trembling slightly, and he wasn't sure if it was due to the cold, or the overwhelming fears that now consumed her.

"Sometimes," she paused, eyes focused on the ground as she fiddled with a loose thread on the sleeve of her hoodie. "I wake up after having a nightmare about _him_… and… and I tell myself that it was just a dream. And sometimes I can trick myself into believing that's what this whole thing was." She looked up at him, brown eyes sparkling with tears, "I just want this whole thing to be a dream," she continued, her voice sounding broken and despondent. Peter nodded sympathetically, resting his chin on the top of her head as she buried closer in his embrace.

"_Why _is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this?" The brunette asked quietly, her voice muffled by the fabric of his winter coat. It pained his heart to hear those words escape her lips.

"Nothing." He replied in a gentle, yet firm voice, "You don't deserve _any _of this." He paused for a moment, wishing there was something he could do for her. Instead, he sat, holding the fragile girl in his arms, telling her everything would be okay, though he had no idea how anything could be _okay_ after this. Peter wanted more than anything to take all of this away; all of her fears, her pain, every memory she had been trying to repress of that bastard. He couldn't stop her from getting raped, couldn't stop her from being pregnant, and it was frustrating. So fucking frustrating, sitting with her, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do.

He did know, however, that the one thing he could do, he wasn't sure he wanted to. While Darcy had the option of giving the child up for adoption, a part of him knew that wasn't the choice she would be making. But how was he supposed to father a child at 17? How was he supposed to father the child of her fucking _rapist_?

_I don't have a choice_, the blond thought, eyes lowering to the shaking girl. _I can't leave her. I __**won't**__ leave her._

After a pregnant pause, Darcy shifted in his arms, sniffling as she did so. She glanced up at him, a lone tear making its way down her cheek. He reached up, brushing away the stray tear, the tip of his thumb lightly grazing her soft skin.

"We should probably go… Manny must be wondering where we are.

"Where _you _are," Peter corrected, offering a small smile. Darcy returned the smile, though he was sure it was most likely forced. "But I already told her, after you left."

"Then I should probably get home…" she said, pulling away from his embrace. She rose from the ground, followed by the blond, and they began walking side by side, his arm around her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

"It'll be okay, Darce," he found himself saying, "We'll figure this out; you'll see."

XxX

"So, how was your day?" Her mother asked as she sat down to join her family at the diner table.

"Fine," Darcy replied quietly, eyeing the food on her plate without interest.

"What did you and Manny do?" Her father asked.

_We went to the park and saw some guy that really freaked me out, and then we went to the Dot and I freaked out at Peter-I'm still seeing him by the way- and then I ran off and had a panic attack in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Then I told Peter I was pregnant. _

Darcy forced a smile, "We went to the mall… went shopping for a couple of hours."

"Did you have fun?" She forced the smile again, and it was beginning to hurt her cheeks to keep the smile up.

Darcy faked a smile; had been faking the same smile for the past two months to create the illusion that she was doing so much better. If her parents had looked closer, they would have noticed that the smile didn't reach her eyes the way it used to. They would have seen the fear, the anxiety, depression, and hopelessness in her eyes. Still, they chose to see the smile and nothing else, because of their desperate need to believe that their _perfect_ daughter was better.

"Yeah," the brunette said, pushing the food around on her plate, "I did."


	8. Ocean of Confusion

_100, 99, 98, 97, 96-_

_I'm pregnant._

_95, 94, 93-_

_I still have to tell my parents._

_92, 91, 90-_

_Peter's still with me._

_89, 88, 87-_

_**He's**__ still out there._

_86, 85, 84-_

_I'm pregnant._

There they were, the same two words, clawing their way back into her conscious mind. The same feelings of dread and unease that churned restlessly in the pit of her stomach when she thought about her parents' ignorance to the whole situation. Along with this was the constant anxiety; constant fear that _he _was out there and that _he _would be back for her. Thousands of thoughts flooding her mind, Darcy shifted under the sheets as she struggled to reach a peaceful state of mind.

She wanted Peter to be here; wanted him to squeeze her hand, kiss her forehead. His gentle touch had always had a calming effect on her. At the same time, however, she felt pathetic for needing him that much.

Again, the brunette changed positions under the cool, thin sheets. Chocolate eyes darting over to the bright red numbers of the digital clock that sat on her cluttered nightstand, she realized that it was already two in the morning. She left out a frustrated sigh, closed her eyes tightly, as if that would help expedite her surrender to sleep. Thousands of thoughts continued clouding her mind, adding to her emotional distress. She rolled over again, let out another sigh, hoping to release some of the tension; relax herself a bit more, clear her mind.

It was one big fucking cycle, though. Darcy would tell herself that she was fine, remind herself that she had the support of her best friend and her boyfriend. She would relax for a moment or two before the thoughts and feelings she had constantly been trying to avoid would invade her thoughts once again. Sometimes they would be triggered by a small noise, and her heightened sense of fear would steer her thoughts back to _him_ and the fact that she was carrying _his_ child. Most of the time, however, they would just find their way back on their own. She could never really forget; no matter how badly she wanted to.

**XxX**

It was selfish, really. Her friend had been raped, and was now pregnant. Her main focus at the moment should have been Darcy's health, both mental and physical, but the only thing she could think about was what could have been if she had kept her own child.

She thought of the baby's cherubic face, how it would have had Craig's eyes, reckless, joyful, and excited; her smile, able to lift the moods of anyone around her. She thought of its adorable giggle, the way it would have wrapped its fingers around her own and held on so tightly as innocent, adoring eyes would stare into hers, both trust and love evident in its wide pools of chocolate. Then she thought of the abortion and the baby's laughter faded away to silence. Images of the child's angelic features were washed away like a long forgotten toy on the shore of the beach.

Trembling slightly, a lone tear slipped down the girl's cheek.

_Did I make a mistake?_

_No_, she told herself. _I wasn't ready._

_And you think Darcy is?_ A snide, contradicting voice in the back of her mind asked.

I couldn't- 

_Darcy was __**raped.**__ Darcy was raped and she's __**still**__ having the child. You just didn't want to deal with it._

_I wasn't ready._

_Neither is your friend, honey. I wonder what she'd think if she knew. What was it? 'No values… no self respect…'_

"I wasn't ready," Manny whispered, voice shaking. She blinked several times in an attempt to clear away the tears that clung to her thick, dark lashes, blurring her vision. She should have been thinking of ways to help Darcy, who recently had become more lost than ever. She should have been lying there worrying about her friend, but instead she found herself drowning in a pool of her own regret, confusion, sorrow.

This wasn't even the first time she had thought back to that decision. It had come to haunt her every time she looked into the innocent eyes of Emma's younger brother, every time she looked at Liberty's pregnant belly last year, every time she listened to the high pitched giggle of Isabella's laughter. But while it had haunted her, she was still able to tell herself that she made the right decision; that she wasn't ready to have a baby.

So why, now that Darcy was pregnant, did she feel so confused about the decision? Why was she suddenly regretting it more than ever?

_'No values… no self respect…'_

Maybe she hadn't made the right decision. But the thing was; she couldn't change it; couldn't turn back time, no matter how badly she wanted to.

**XxX**

He could still see it happening, over and over again. Sure, the majority of it was a huge blur, but he was still able to remember certain parts; certain parts that would have clued him in if he hadn't been such a drunken idiot.

_"Get out." She spat, the anger concealing the hurt in her chocolate eyes._

_"Alright, I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes._

_"How wasted are you?"_

_"I've only had one drink, jackass," she slurred; rolling her eyes as she drunkenly knocked the hat off of his head._

_"I'm a virgin too," he said, not paying any attention to the fact that Darcy wasn't listening, or the pained expression she wore. _

"_But I don't care… I'll wait until… whenever. Cause I love you." _

He remembered feeling sick, and leaving the room. He could still feel the bile rising in his throat whenever he thought about it: how he left the room, left his girlfriend lying passed out on the couch; unprotected in a room full of people they didn't even know.

And he hated himself for it; for everything he'd done to her. He still felt remorseful for telling Danny and Derek that he thought he had sex with her. He still felt ashamed for the pictures he had taken, disgusted by what he had done to her with Adams. He still hated himself for not being there for her enough; still felt sick to his stomach whenever he thought of her suicide attempt. He hated that she was pregnant, holding the child of the bastard that had fucked up her life. If she kept it, he wanted to support her and the child, but he didn't think he would be able to love the child, and he hated himself for that too.

Because the whole thing was his fault, really. He'd screwed up so many times before. With Manny, with Emma, with Darcy. So it wasn't really anything new when, surprise, Peter fucked up again. He got drunk off his ass, and as a result, Darcy, whom he was supposed to protect, ended up the victim of some perverted bastard's sexual abuse.

All of these jumbled up thoughts swirled about in his mind, colliding and often repeating themselves as he tried not to think about them, struggled to clear his head of the images and thoughts that made him physically ill to think about.

_His drunken figure stumbling out of the room._

_Darcy's unconscious body lying on the couch in a room full of strangers._

_Someone forcing themselves on Darcy's unconscious body._

_The bastard was still out there._

_Crimson rivulets pooling from her wrist._

_The bastard was still out there._

_Darcy's frail form hooked up to an IV while a colorless bandage did little to cover up what lay on her left wrist._

_The bastard was still out there._

_A part of __**him**__ was growing inside her._

_The bastard was still out there._

_His drunken figure stumbling out of the room._

_Darcy's unconscious body lying on the couch in a room full of strangers._

_Someone forcing themselves on Darcy's unconscious body._

_It was his fault._

_The bastard was still out there._

Peter immediately rose from his bed, feeling bile creep up his throat. After darting to the bathroom, he found himself kneeling in front of the toilet, trying to prevent himself from vomiting. The thoughts continued racing through his mind, pounding against the sides of his head. He gripped the sides of the porcelain bowl tightly as he waited for both the headache and a period of vertigo to pass. Several dry heaves later, he was feeling somewhat better, and sat, back leaning against the cool side of the tub.

_'Fucking pansy…' _he cursed himself silently, _'Thinking about something that didn't even happen to you shouldn't be making you sick.'_

It was selfish to even let it affect him like this. Peter needed to support Darcy; get a job if she decided to keep the baby, be there for her when she needed it, stay with her no matter what. He needed to support her, though all he really wanted to do was make all of this go away: the pregnancy; the suicide attempt; every feeling of shame, fear, or despair; every thought that haunted her; her ruined reputation; every single thing that happened to her that night. He wanted to fix this for her; more than anything he'd ever wanted. It was impossible, though. There was no way any of this could ever be fixed, no matter how badly he wanted it to be.

* * *

**Let me just say this, in case I anger some of the readers: I'm pro choice and I don't have anything against anyone who has an abortion. I thought it would be something that Manny would think, and maybe change her mind about if her friend was pregnant and keeping the baby.**

Also, I'm sorry for taking two months to finish this chapter. 


	9. Take Me Away

_BEEP-_

The alarm clock screeched loudly, bold scarlet numbers blinking frantically, as if screaming at her to wake up. With a quick, brusque movement, Darcy's hand reached out and turned off the alarm before it reached the second beep. She lay there, staring at the bleak white ceiling above her, a single question grasping her exhausted mind.

_Why should I get up?_

She had been lying there since 11 pm the night before, and yet she still hadn't gotten even an ounce of sleep. Eleven became twelve, twelve became three, three became seven, and she was still lying in the exact same spot, the same thoughts pulsing through her brain. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to fully relax.

_Why should I even get up?_

Some days Darcy would wake up, thinking she could handle things. She would get up, hoping that she'd finally be able to put this past her. Other days were worse. She would lie in bed, eyes shut tightly, silently begging God to finally end this for her. Because she couldn't get _him_ out of her head. Couldn't get _his_ scent off of her clothes, the feeling of _his_ fingers brushing against her skin, the feeling of _him_ inside of her. And she utterly despised being around everyone.

She was so fucking sick of being treated like a fragile China doll that needed to be watched and treated with so much care that it might break if left alone for even a second. And while she hated being alone and took comfort in the support of her friends and family, she now found herself wishing that they would just leave her alone. Life was unfathomable that way, but she had grown so tired of questioning it.

Being near her parents brought the same four emotions bubbling to the surface: guilt, shame, fear, and the dread of knowing she _had_ to tell them.

And then there were Manny and Peter, who had been doing everything they could to help her. She hated hearing them try to reassure her; despised when they told her things would get better. Their support only made her feel worse because she knew they were dealing with a lost cause.

"Darcy," her mom said, "Sweetie, it's time to get up." The woman said, gently shaking her daughter. The brunette flinched violently under the touch, feeling a sudden urge to scream at her mother. Biting her tongue, she opened her eyes, as if she had just woken up.

"I'm up," she said, forcing her lips into the familiar position of a painted on grin.

XxX

"Hey Darce," Peter greeted, quickening his pace so he could catch up with her. Darcy stopped, waiting for the blond.

"Hey," she replied quietly, the grim features on her face lighting up slightly as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, Darcy guessed he hadn't slept well since the day she had told him. And she hated that Peter was being affected by this whole thing. It was _her_ fault anyway. She shouldn't have told him. Ignorance is bliss. At least for him it was.

They made their way up the steps of Degrassi, joining the growing horde of half-asleep students that were entering the school building. Darcy tensed, suddenly feeling as if half the world was staring at her.

"You okay, Darce?" Peter asked softly, and she predicted the words before they had left his mouth. Her eyes darted down to her stomach, and then once again to the crowd of students.

"Yeah," she said, and the pained masquerade of cheerfulness appeared once again.

XxX

Darcy eyed the clock, watching the movement of each hand intently as Ms. Kwan rambled on about Shakespeare; background noise. The brunette shifted uncomfortably in her seat, legs bouncing restlessly as she struggled to wait for the ringing of the bell. Having spent the last 45 minutes fighting off waves of nausea and fatigue, she couldn't wait to be able to leave the room without making a scene in front of the whole class.

She kept her eyes focused on the clock, avoiding a slightly irritating series of worried glances from Peter. But she couldn't help but look around to see if anyone else was staring at her. _Who else knew? How did they find out? Could they tell already?_

The sudden ringing of the bell interrupted her thoughts, startling her so much that she jumped in her seat. While the majority of the class rushed to exit the classroom, Peter stayed behind, waiting for her to gather her belongings.

"Darcy, may I speak to you for a minute?" Ms. Kwan asked, her aging features forming a grim expression. Darcy glanced up at her, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

"I'll save you a seat," Peter mumbled before leaving the room.

"Um… about what?"

"Your performance in class. Your work is not up to its usual standards. You've been falling asleep during class. Last week you got up and left several times during class-"

"Ms. Kwan," she interrupted, feigning a smile, "I've just been really sick for the past couple of weeks. But I'm feeling much better now. It won't happen again," she promised.

The English teacher still did not appear convinced. "Darcy, given the events of last month-"

"I'm _fine._"

"I think it would be best if Ms. Sauve—"

"You're not going to tell her, are you?" The brunette interrupted, the painted on smile dissolving from her face.

"It is my job as a teacher to report these concerns to—"

"I told you," Darcy stated firmly, nostrils flaring in anger, anger flashing in her large brown eyes, lips forming a tight, grim line, "I'm _fine._"

"Darcy—"

"I can't believe you're doing this to me! I was sick. That's it!" Furiously, she began stuffing books and folders into her messenger bag. Without another word, she stormed out of the room.

She had meant to leave and go to the cafeteria; at least that's what old Darcy would have done. But her legs kept moving, apparently making decisions of their own that her mind hadn't registered. Old Darcy would have gone to the washroom or the cafeteria, or maybe stayed in the hallway. She would have never left the school building like new Darcy was. Not that it mattered anymore. Old Darcy was gone. Old Darcy had been stolen by _him_ that night. Old Darcy wasn't coming back.

The brunette had stormed out of the room, began walking, and kept walking until she had left the building. Somewhere after that, the walk became a jog, and then a run. She had needed to leave. Being in school had made her feel paranoid and trapped; strangled by the constant glances of pity, disgust, and concern, and the whispers that were seemingly always accompanied by her name.

Now she concentrated solely on the soft thud of each foot hitting the ground, the noisy inhalations, soft exhalations as she ran.

XxX

Peter waited several minutes before entering the park. His gaze slowly shifted towards the heartbreaking scene of his girlfriend sitting on the swing, twisting its chains and looking very much like a lost child.

"Darcy…" he tried hesitantly, waiting for a reaction before he approached her.

She glanced up, "Peter, what are you doing here?"

"I saw you leave the building… Just wanted to make sure you were okay..."

"Well I'm fine," she said, and began twisting the chains again, as though there had been no interruption.

"Why'd you leave?" He asked, walking closer to where she sat on the playground. She stopped once again, this time appearing irritated.

"I'm _fine_," she repeated firmly, "I don't need _you_ to check on me every five seconds. I'm not a child."

The blond appeared hurt for a moment, but quickly recovered, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"Okay…" he mumbled, turning to leave.

"Sorry." She said abruptly. "Sorry," she repeated, in a much softer tone.

"Do you want me to stay?" He asked, unsure of himself, yet wanting to do whatever he could to help her. She shrugged, letting the chains unravel, feet dragging through blades of dead grass as the swing slowly spun around. Peter watched, contemplating the decision to stay.

"I used to come here all the time when I was younger," Darcy said, as the rotation of the swing slowly came to a halt. Peter sat down on the swing next to her, nodding to urge her to continue.

"Mostly when there was something bothering me," she said, and her voice shook slightly as she spoke. "I used to swing really high. And I would tell myself that…" she paused, "that one day I would eventually swing so high, I could just leave the seat… and fly away from everything." She tried to cover up her trembling lip with a smile that faltered as quickly as it had formed. "Sometimes I really wish that were true."

Peter reached out both of his hands, held her cold hand between his two warm ones, looked her lovingly in the eyes.

"Darcy, you can't run away from all of this." He paused, trying to think of some way to reassure her, "It'll get better. I promise."

The brunette violently yanked her hand away from his, quickly rose from the swing. "That's what you say. That's what you always say," she said firmly, voice shaking as she spoke. "But you have no idea. And you can't promise anything like that."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued, "You don't know what will happen, or how it's going to be, and _you can't sit there and tell me that everything will be okay_. Everything is supposed to happen for a reason." She let out a deep, shaky breath, "I just want to know why this happened to me."

Peter looked away, then back up into the tortured eyes of his girlfriend. He was supposed to protect her, support her, reassure her. Instead, he hadn't been able to do anything to help her. He tried to search his mind for something to say that would make her feel better. The blond looked her straight in the eyes, begging himself to come up with something that would help her.

"I don't know," was all that escaped his lips.

* * *

A/N: Okay, two promises

1. I will not take four months to write the next chapter. I don't have writer's block this time, so it should be done in about a week or so... depending on how much school interferes with my life.  
2. I know some of these chapters haven't been that interesting, but I can promise that it will get better.

Also, sorry for any spelling mistakes. I don't think there are any, but I haven't gotten more than 5 hours of sleep each night this week and my eye keeps twitching and I'm falling asleep writing this.

Anyway... happy reading.  
Reviewing is also fun -hint hint-


	10. Strawberry Fields Forever

**A/N: Look at me... updating a chapter in less than three months. Am I not amazing?**

**Muchas gracias BeautifulxxDisasterx for being the only reviewer last chapter. It was an amazing review because it wasn't just "Update soon" or like the one I got that said "WRITE SOME EFFING MORE" and it made me smile (which scared half the world, I'm sure)**

**Anywho, hopefully everyone enjoyed this chapter... and hopefully it doesn't suck.**

* * *

_"Let me take you down, cos I'm going to Strawberry Fields  
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about  
Strawberry Fields forever_

Living is easy with eyes closed  
Misunderstanding all you see  
It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out  
It doesn't matter much to me  
Let me take you down, cos I'm going to Strawberry Fields  
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about  
Strawberry Fields forever"  
Strawberry Fields Forever- The Beatles

Irritated, Darcy shifted positions under the cool sheets for what seemed like the millionth time that night. She longed for a brief hiatus between the thoughts that constantly flooded through her mind. She wished she could concentrate on the sound of the drizzling rain tapping the windowpane or the low breathing and quiet snores coming from Claire's side of the room instead of _him_ or the baby, or telling her parents. _He_ hadn't just physically raped her; he had permanently invaded her mind.

Her tired eyes gradually made their way over to the window. The glow of the streetlights against the dark night sky was alluring, and she soon found herself getting out of bed. Darcy quietly opened the window, knowing Claire was a light sleeper, and made her way on to the roof. The brunette silently eased her way down, and when the distance between her and the ground had decreased a significant amount, she let herself fall, landing on her feet with a soft thud. The rain had formed small puddles in the grass, which reminded her that she had forgotten to put shoes on, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Once again, it was as if her legs had minds of their own, and she began running, this time concentrating on the sound of the drizzling rain, the glow of the street lamps, and the vast dark landscape before her that seemed to stretch out forever. She ran into the darkness, further and further, feeling freer with each step. A thought crossed her mind, and she stopped running for a moment, stared out into the darkness.

_What if I just keep running forever?_

Nothing could hurt her that way. She wouldn't have to deal with any of this. Darcy laughed bitterly at the thought of herself saying _'Catch me if you can'_ to all of her problems. It would be easy to run from most of them. Except for the one coming with her.

Still she continued to run until she found herself in the middle of the park for the second time that week. The brunette made her way through the wet grass over to the swing that she had claimed as her own when she was younger.

The brunette kicked her legs out, then pulled them back in through the thin, cold air. She kicked her legs out again, pulling them back in more forcefully to speed up the momentum of the seat. The swing set creaked restlessly from the movement as Darcy willed herself to go faster, higher. The cold air rushed toward her, cooling her formerly burning skin.

Darcy stared out at the legs in front of her that pushed through into the darkness and then folded in, pulling her out. She gazed absorbedly at them until the long, thin legs became short and chubby. Two muddy bare feet became two small buckle shoe-clad feet. The darkness lifted around her and, listening intently, she could almost hear the cheerful voices of her past. She could hear her mother yelling at her for swinging too high, and she remembered laughing at the woman's concern, saying that she was swinging so high that if she jumped, God would just let her fly, like a fairy. And she remembered the momentary bliss of feeling like she was flying when she jumped, and the disappointment and betrayal she felt when she landed, injuring herself in the process.

Shaking the memory from her head, Darcy sighed softly, eyes making their way to the moist blades of grass below. She waited until the seat swung forward, almost launching from it when she suddenly remembered _him _and how it probably wouldn't be good for the baby. She sighed yet again, stopped pushing, then allowed her feet to drag through the grass as the swing slowed down. There was nothing that could free her from _him_ completely.

XxX

Darcy silently pried open the window, careful not to wake her younger sister. Cautiously, she entered the room and shut the window behind her. Rainwater dripped from her hair, little drops staining the carpet, and she shivered suddenly, as if her body had finally realized she was cold. Her long sleeved shirt and pajama pants were drenched with water, and stuck to her body with wetness. There were splotches of mud on the windowsill, stains of it in the carpet where she now stood. There was a lot she needed to do now to ensure that no one knew she had been out.

"Darcy?" The brunette froze. Claire.

"Yeah?"

"Were you just outside?" The girl asked, fatigue evident in her voice. She stifled a yawn.

"No." Seconds later, a small click was heard, and the lights went on.

"You're wet." Her sister noted, and she kept herself turned away from the girl.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?" Darcy heard the girl shift under the seats.

"Yeah." Each response was as emotionless as the last.

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are," she insisted. "Why won't you tell anyone what's going on?"

Darcy sighed, sitting down on her bed.

"There's nothing going on."

"You can tell me."

"No," she spat, suddenly angry at her sister, "_I can't._"

"Why not?"

"God, will you just shut up already?! It's none of your business and you wouldn't understand anyway," Darcy snapped, turning to glare at the child.

"You've been getting sick a lot," Claire persisted, making her way over to the teen. She sat down next to her sister, ignoring the older girl's irritated appearance.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell mom or dad." There was a pregnant pause, and then a mumbled 'thanks' could be heard from the older girl.

"Is it Peter's?"

"What?" Darcy asked. The angry look in her eyes vanished, and fear, in turn, took its place. The scowl on her mouth dissolved into a deep frown of desolation.

"I'm not a little kid. I'm eleven. And I'm not stupid."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the teen denied, though she knew the small girl could see right past her lies.

"You've been sick; _throwing up_. For more than a week. I'm not an idiot, Darcy." Her statement was met with silence and the older girl looked away, her gaze focused on the lights of the passing cars and the glow of the streetlamps that were visible through the mud-caked window.

"So is it Peter's?" Claire continued. Darcy's gaze lifted from the window and she turned her head to stare down at her hands, which were fidgeting restlessly in her lap.

"Shut up," came the muffled reply.

"Please, Darcy, you can talk to me." She placed her small hands on top of her sister's, a gesture of reassurance.

The two sat in silence as the brunette contemplated telling her sister. She was so young, and already having experienced it herself, Darcy had no desire to rob her of her innocence.

"Please. I won't tell Mom and Dad. I swear." The teen looked into the large, pleading eyes of the youth and finally came to a decision.

"Claire, I really don't want to talk about this… I don't want you to—" Claire frowned.

"So it's not Peter's." Darcy's nostrils flared in anger at her sister's persistence, but her expression soon dissolved into one of sheer sadness.

"No," she said quietly, "It's not." There was a long pause before she spoke again. "Last month I snuck out and went to a party." She drew in a shaky breath before continuing; "Someone put something in my drink a-and…" A muffled sob drowned out the rest of her words. She knew what it was; Darcy could say the word in her mind. But whenever it came to saying it out loud, it was near impossible. She'd said it once to Ms. Sauve, and she _hated_ saying it, and she _hated_ hearing other people say it. It made her feel so unbearably _dirty_.

Claire scooted closer to her sister, wrapped her small arms around Darcy's shaking frame, ignoring the wet, muddy clothing that stuck to her body. Darcy hugged her back, grateful for the child's silent understanding. It was good, she decided, that Claire had found out, and that she had been so understanding about it. Not only did she gain the support of one more person, but it gave her hope for when she had to tell her parents. All she could hope for was the same reaction from her parents.

* * *


	11. Getting Better

Peter sighed making his way down the stairs. Scanning through a pile of junk and random belongings at the end of the staircase that his mother had told him numerous times to pick up, Peter found and retrieved his backpack. He gazed at the door uneasily, knots twisting in the pit of his stomach.

It wasn't that he didn't want to go to school- he'd always enjoyed going to school more than staying home with his parents- it was _Darcy._ But it wasn't that he didn't want to see her either. He just didn't know what to do anymore. There was nothing he could say or do that would make this any better for her, and he was tired of standing by her side feeling completely _useless_ while his girlfriend spiraled further into her depression.

A naïve part of him had hoped that being there for her enough would magically make her feel better; would magically make all of this better. He missed the old Darcy; she had so much faith in him. She believed in him, knew that he was much more than a screw-up. Because that's all he really was anyway. He'd been fucking things up his whole life, and he couldn't save his girlfriend when she so desperately needed it.

Inhaling deeply, the blond reached for the doorknob, only to be greeted by a much more cheerful looking brunette. Surprised, he pulled open the door the rest of the way and stepped out of the house.

"I told Claire," she said. Her words were rushed, her tone anxious, but he could tell in her chocolate orbs that she was proud of herself.

"Darcy, that's great!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms around the petite girl and lifting her slightly off the ground in tight embrace.

XxX

The brunette stood in front of her boyfriend's house, gazing nervously at it before she made her way across the lawn and up the steps. She stood outside, gaze fixed on her shoes as she anxiously fidgeted with the sleeves of her hoodie. She clenched the soft material in her fists tightly, not paying any attention to the harsh gusts of late-February winds, which collided with her hair, rearranging the position of the dark brown strands. But her mind wasn't focused on the cold as she waited for her boyfriend to leave the house. Darcy was more concerned about how this would go.

Tuning out the whistling of each gust of cool air, she listened closely, hearing heavy footsteps near the door from inside. There was a pregnant pause in the footsteps before they continued. A creak was heard from the other side of the old, wooden door, and the newly shined doorknob turned slowly. As the frame revealed a surprised looking Peter, Darcy's lips instantly formed a smile.

"I told Claire," she said. The words slipped out of her mouth before she'd had a chance to process them. Which was good, she supposed, because it didn't leave much time for the worry and doubt to appear on her face.

Because, in truth, she hadn't really told Claire. She had spent the whole night trying to run away from this only to have to face it upon her return. Claire, being the bright eleven-year old that she was, had surmised the pregnancy. She pressured Darcy into telling her the rest of the story. And in all honesty, Darcy hadn't even done that. She still wasn't able to say _it_. What _he_ had done.

But she knew she was a lost cause. And so she stood there and smiled, letting Peter think she was getting better; that she wasn't still as fucked up as the day she'd found out about _him_. She knew Peter thought she was a lost cause. And she also knew that he really wanted to believe he could help her. And she believed in him.

So she stood and smiled, the essence of her smile becoming more fake than that of a plastic Barbie doll's, and told herself that she would get better with the support of Manny, Peter, and Claire.

"Darcy, that's great!" the blond said, grinning as he pulled her into a tight embrace, placing a light kiss on her forehead as she was lifted into the air. As he slowly brought her back to the ground, she could see the pride in his eyes. And she was glad.

She needed to know that people thought she was doing the right thing; were proud of her; believed in her.

"Do you think you'll tell your parents soon?" Peter inquired, reaching for her hand and squeezing it lightly.

"Yeah," Darcy said quickly, feigning confidence.

She knew she was far from being ready to tell them. But after yesterday; after the way she'd freaked out at Peter; the way she'd shown how hopeless she was, she was willing to do anything to make him think she was healing and keep his support. After telling him about Claire, he seemed to believe that she was doing better and there was no way she could let him down.

"I'm proud of you, Darce," the blond said, pressing his lips to her forehead once more.

XxX

Making his way along the side of the empty street, Peter couldn't help but wonder if Darcy was completely okay. She had gone from yelling at him, pushing him away, telling him that he wasn't helping and she just couldn't understand why this had happened to gaining enough courage to tell her sister and to want to tell her parents in the course of one day. While he was beyond blissful and proud that his girlfriend had gained the courage to do so, a bad feeling churned restlessly in the pit of his stomach, and there was a small, nagging voice in the back of his head that told him something was wrong. And no matter how much he wanted to tell that voice to shut up and just pretend along Darcy that things were perfect, he couldn't seem to do so.

"Do you want me to come with you when you tell them?" He asked, bringing up the subject again. While he felt like an asshole for doing so, he knew that talking about it enough would eventually force the truth out of her.

"No, I'm going to do it myself," she replied with perfect aplomb. He remained silent, then spoke again.

"Do you know when you're going to do it?"

"I think after school today," Darcy answered. Peter inwardly sighed. The further he tried to pry, the stronger Darcy's emotional walls became.

"That's good." He paused, silently hating himself more and more with every nosy question he asked.

"What made you decide to tell Claire?" He felt her tense beside him.

"We really need to get to school."

Peter sighed, closing his eyes briefly. The nagging voice became louder and louder, overpowering every other thought in his mind, while the hopes of her sudden recovery slowly melted away. The joy he had felt for her earlier shattered, each shard piercing his heart as he struggled to find a reason for why she was lying to him; why she was trying to force this to happen when she clearly wasn't ready.

"_Not us, not now."_ Manny's voice suddenly popped into his head.

"_Why not?"_ he remembered answering.

"_I got this pamphlet."_

"_Oh great, a pamphlet."_

"_It says rape victims need to heal at their own pace. It's important."_

Peter froze. She wasn't ready to tell her parents. What if something bad happened because she was trying to force herself to?

"Peter?" The brunette said, waving a hand in front of his face. His eyes darted down to her and she gave him a small smile in return.

"Let's go," she said, tugging on his arm lightly, "we're going to be late."

"Right," he stated, shaking his head, "Sorry."

'_Oh, Darcy…' _he thought_, 'Why are you doing this to yourself?'_

* * *

**First of all, thanks for all the reviews last chapter. I love that you guys tell me what you liked about it, and how you're interpreting each part, rather than just saying that you like it and that I should update soon.  
**

**Actually, it seemed like you guys liked the last chapter so much, I was freaking out about how I should follow that up.**

**And I had no idea what to write really, but after a while, thing just started coming to me... so hopefully you guys liked this chapter too. **


	12. Tangled Up In Blue

"Are you sure you're going to do this?" Peter asked for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Darcy sighed in annoyance, rolling her eyes at the blond.

"Yes, I'm sure."

She had just left school after Spirit Squad, accompanied by her boyfriend and his endless list of prying questions. The winds, powerful and merciless, fought against her as she walked, while the grey, overcast skies brought promises of a snowstorm. She shivered under the extreme conditions of the weather, her breaths visible through the thin air in the calm of each gust of wind. She couldn't wait to go home and get out of the cold.

_Home._

Home, where she was going to tell her parents today. Where she _had_ to in order to feign her recovery.

"Darcy!" The brunette turned around to see Manny making her way over to the two, strands of her newly dyed dark, chocolate hair being thrown around by the blustery weather. Darcy paused, waiting for her friend.

"Hey," she offered, though not really in the mood to talk to her friend.

"Hey," Manny replied cheerily as she caught up with the two. "Emma and I are going to the mall later this afternoon. Do you want to come with us?"

"Manny, I can't. I told you, I'm telling my parents today."

"Oh," she replied, frowning slightly, "I didn't know you meant today." Darcy watched as her eyes darted in Peter's direction, who met her gaze with an urgent expression. The brunette frowned, scrutinizing the exchange of knowing glances between the two.

"Are you sure you're ready, Darce?" The raven-haired girl questioned, watching her carefully.

"Why do you and Peter keep asking that? God! I thought you'd be happy for me, but instead you're both trying to talk me out of it!"

"Darcy, we just don't want you to do anything you're not completely ready for. Especially something as important as this," Manny reasoned.

The brunette's expressive eyes widened at the response. Her nostrils flared in anger, lips twisting into a dark scowl.

"Why can't you just believe I'm ready for this? I_ can_ handle this!" she fumed, furious eyes looking to destroy the pity and concern she saw in both her friend and boyfriend's eyes.

"Darcy-" Manny started.

"I thought you wanted me to get better! Well I am! I'm not a lost cause, okay? I can _fucking _handle this." She spat. Furiously, Darcy pivoted on her heel and began to walk away from the two.

"We do want you to get better, Darcy. That's why we're trying to help you." Manny said calmly, hoping to change her friend's mind. There was a long pause, and the brunette halted for a brief moment. When it appeared that she was processing the words and reconsidering her decision, she continued walking.

"Darcy, this isn't helping you," Peter stated firmly.

"How the _hell_ would _you_ know?" She snarled.

"God dammit, Darcy, we just want to help you." He snapped. "We do believe in you. But we're not the problem. You can't even start to get better unless you believe in yourself."

Darcy froze, the words piercing through her skin, aiming right for her heart. A lump began to form in her throat. Her lip quivered slightly. Her eyes, like small glass bowls, began to pool with tears. Filled to the brim, the tears began overflowing. They clung to her long, dark lashes, sticking to them as the bitter, cold air froze them in place.

Peter had yelled at her. Peter _never_ yelled at her. Especially since _it_ had happened. Even worse was the fact that he had just practically _told_ her out loud that she couldn't be helped. She _was_ a lost cause.

"Don't do this, Darcy." Came Manny's soft voice.

"I _can_ handle this," came the cold response. Deciding not to permit the two to see the teardrops that glittered in her eyes. She continued walking away from the two, speeding up her pace as she moved farther and farther away from them.

When she felt the distance between them had increased significantly, Darcy slowed back down to a walk. She listened as her black converse hit the cracked cement of the sidewalk with soft thuds. Her eyes followed their every movement, and she couldn't help but wonder if she was taking steps in the right direction, or just for the sake of taking steps.

Because she was so tired of standing in the same place, immobilized by her own fear.

XxX

Darcy climbed the steep concrete steps leading up to her house and paused when she reached the door. Her gaze focused on the glint of the golden doorknob, she willed her legs to move further. Contrary to the way her legs recently seemed to have been moving on their own account, she tried as hard as she could to take the two extra steps into her home, but found them stubbornly frozen in place.

_'Come on,'_ she told herself over and over again, _'All you have to do is reach for the doorknob,'_

She glared at her arm accusingly, as though blaming it for not opening the door to face her fears: a task easier said than done.

XxX

He slowly made his way down the street, his eyes focused solely on one thing. There was nothing special about his appearance, and he was able to blend into the crowd of people: just another passerby. '_Except_,' he thought to himself, _'to her.'_

He halted in his steps, pulling out his cell phone, pretending to make a call, and turned in _her_ direction.

_She_ stared blankly at the door, though once in a while, _her_ gaze would shift to a different limb: sometimes an arm, sometimes _her_ legs. _Her_ blank expression changed into frustration, then melted into fear, sadness; and finally the empty expression would return to _her_ soft, alluring features.

Sometimes _her_ beauty was so captivating, it left him in a daze, and he would have to force himself to look away. His wistful stares were limited to seconds at a time without creating suspicion.

His heart sank immediately when he saw _her_ hesitantly reaching for the doorknob. When _her_ hand recoiled seconds later, he smiled a twisted smile, took several steps toward _her_. _Her_ fear was alluring.

But he stopped, reminding himself that _he_ was in control. The brown-eyed beauty would _not_ control him. _She _belonged to _him_.

_She_ would know that soon enough.

XxX

_'Come on,'_ Darcy told herself, and she soon found herself reaching for the doorknob. Fear pulsed through her veins; the voices of her parents pounded against her skull. How would they react to finding out that their perfect daughter had been…

She pulled her hand away, reconsidering the decision. Manny and Peter were right not to believe in her. She couldn't do this.

A small ringing sounded from her bright green bag, indicating that someone was calling her cell phone. Picking up the small item, she realized it was Peter and shoved it back in the bag.

_Peter_ who had yelled at her. _Peter_ who thought she was pathetic. _Peter_ who had no faith in her.

Darcy closed her eyes, tried to block out the pain of the pounding headache. She was trapped. She couldn't stay here, couldn't leave.

The image of the rusty, old swing set accumulated in her mind, and she turned to leave, focusing once again on her shoes.

"Ma'am?" The brunette looked up suddenly, questioning the source of the voice. A man stood before her- dark hair, black eyes, muscular build, thin lips that she recalled had once been tightly twisted into a scowl- the man from the park.

Darcy froze, breathing hitched as he approached her.

"Ma'am?" He repeated, and she found herself paralyzed while her mind screamed desperately for her to run. This time, however, her legs listened, and she bolted, passing the man without a second glance.

And as she neared him, her heart rate sped up, screaming thoughts pounded against the sides of her head, begging her to run. Her breathing shallow, she began to feel lightheaded. But still, she continued to run, careful to stay a certain distance away from him as she did so. And while she refused to look into his eyes, she could tell that he wasn't done talking to her by the movements of his body. Passing him, she realized that even the smell of him was enough to inject fear into her body. _'That smell…'_

Before her brain registered its significance, her body screamed at her to run faster. Legs screaming in pain from the excessive speed, sides burning from the rapid, shallow breaths, her mind propelled her to reach a speed that she wasn't sure her body was capable of reaching.

Where she was going; she just wasn't sure yet.

XxX

Darcy knocked rapidly on the window, praying to God that he was home right now. Seconds later, there was a small sliding noise and the window creaked open.

"Darcy—" Peter started, but was interrupted by the brunette barging into his room.

"I can't do it, Peter. You were right. I don't think I'll ever be able to do it. I'm sorry." The words came out rushed, and while they seemed to slur together, two words stuck out to him.

"What do you have to be sorry for, Darce?" he asked, surprised. After all, _he_ was the one who should have been apologizing.

"I couldn't do it," she continued, as though he hadn't said anything, "I thought I could, and I just wanted to prove to you that I wasn't a lost cause because then you'd leave me, and I can't lose you, not after I've lost everything else. But I couldn't go inside, and I didn't want to stay outside. It's so cold outside." The words escaped from her mouth, precipitated and jumbled, and she looked up at him with desolate, pleading eyes.

"Darcy…" he started. There were so many things _wrong_ with what she had just said, and he wasn't sure which to address first. Before answering, Peter closed the window, blocking off the flow of cold air that seeped through the open frame. He turned back around to see the brunette still standing, then motioned for her to sit down on top of the unmade bed in the center of the room. She nodded, doing so silently.

Assuming she did not want him on the bed with her, Peter retrieved an old box of junk that had been left in his room, scooting it closer to the bed, and sat down on it.

"Sorry." His eyes darted upwards, observing the confused look his girlfriend bore. "For yelling at you like that. I'm sorry." He paused, slowly reaching for her hand. When she didn't pull away, he squeezed it lightly.

"And… I'm sorry if I made you think that I thought you were hopeless. But I wasn't sure if you were ready to tell them. I was worried that something bad might happen if you tried to tell them if you weren't ready. And… I do believe in you." There was a small hiatus in his words, and Peter, whose focus had previously been on the small, cold hand in his, looked up, his deep blue eyes meeting hers.

"Anyway, I just thought you should know that." There was a long pause, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking.

"I'm so tired of people worrying about me," She muttered, strength returning to her formerly panicked tone. "Just… the way everyone looks at me. And the way everyone's always watching what they say so they don't offend me. I'm so sick of it."

Peter was quiet for a moment, then spoke, "Is that why you don't want to tell your parents?"

Darcy remained silent. She turned her head, averting her gaze from his. As she turned, Peter noticed the glint in her eyes, the chocolate orbs shining with tears. He said nothing of it, waiting for her response.

"You don't get it, Peter," she said, continuing to avoid facing him. "You don't get how hard it is to do something like that." She paused, "Because you know that it'll be good for you if you tell them. They're the ones who watched you grow up, who took care of you when you were sick, who went to watch you in the school play, watched your dance recitals, supported you when you wanted to be a cheerleader. You should be able to trust them. And you sit there in the same room with them, trying so hard to force yourself to be happy that it hurts. And the words are screaming at you in your mind because they've been kept up there for way too long. They're on the tip of your tongue, and you can't make them come out of your mouth.

Because they're your parents. And they still see you as the brilliant straight 'A' student; the leader of Friendship Club; the innocent daughter; the epitome of perfection. And the words are on the tip of your tongue because you so desperately need their support, but there's nothing you can do to make yourself say them; nothing you can do to shatter that image of yourself for them." Darcy paused, trembling under his concerned stare.

"Because once they know, then they'll realize that the old, strong Darcy is gone for good. They'll understand why you flinch at the smallest touch, why you constantly look over your shoulder, why you end up crying almost every day, why you're so completely screwed up beyond belief and there's nothing anyone can do about it because—" Her voice cracked, silencing her speech, and the tears sparkling in her eyes began to flow freely down her cheeks. Darcy's attempts at speaking again were drowned out as heartbreaking sobs wracked her thin frame.

Peter rose from where he was sitting, slowly eased himself on the unkempt bed next to his girlfriend. He slowly placed a comforting arm around her, shushing her and whispering soothing words as he gently rubbed small circles in the curve of her back. She soon collapsed into his arms, face pressed against his shoulder, staining the sleeve of his shirt with splotches of teardrops. He squeezed her arm reassuringly, then gently pulled her into his lap.

"I want them to support me," she cried, clinging to the blond by his thin, navy blue shirt. "But _all I can think about _is how _disgusted_ they'll be with me. How I'm supposed to be this pure, perfect person," she managed to sputter between sobs, "and now all they'll be able to see is the new me: the tainted, disgusting, corrupted version." She was sobbing so hard, the cries shook her frame violently, and Peter's arms tightened around the girl.

"I can't go back to being who they want me to be."

"Darcy," Peter said quietly, "They love you. They'll accept _it._ They'll accept _you_." In his arms, he could feel her resistance to the words, and he continued, "I love you just as much as I did before it happened." Pause. "They're your parents. They'll support you no matter what."

The room was silent for a moment, and all that could be heard was the sound of the strong winds whistling outside.

"No," she mumbled sadly, at last, "I don't think they will."

"Why not?"

"Because," she said, taking a deep breath. Darcy pulled away slowly, wiped away a stray tear that had made its way down her cheek. Sniffling, she shifted uncomfortably in his lap. She appeared tense, and he could tell she was having trouble getting the words out.

"I think I want to keep the baby."


	13. Fix You

_"I think I want to keep the baby."_ Her words cut through the silent air, lingering moments afterward as if daring him to answer.

Peter's gaze drifted down to the brunette. She did not look at him, but instead fixed her gaze on a small spot on the wooden floor of his room. She sat; hunched over, crossing her arms, and her body language as she sat in that position portrayed the fear and shame she was feeling at that moment. Peter took this in with utter disgust, as if finally realizing the true amount of damage one person could do to another.

"Are… are you sure?" the blond asked, hesitantly, the soft-spoken words slicing through the deafening silence that had overtaken the room. Darcy's eyes remained on the floor, though he felt her tense in his arms after the words had left his mouth, and he mentally kicked himself for letting the words leave his parted lips.

"Darce…" Peter trailed off, his gaze fixed on the broken girl that sat in his lap while he searched for the right thing to say. Did she understand what a huge decision this was? Was she ready, he wondered, to give up her entire future because of what **he** had done to her? The questions raced through his mind for a moment, before was able to reason with himself that she had probably been thinking about this for a while.

"Yeah…" she spoke softly, "I mean… I think it's the right thing to do…" Peter nodded, encouraging her to explain.

"I can't… have an abortion… I just can't," she said, sniffling as the nearly whispered, yet firm words left her mouth. She looked up at him, eyes glazed over from recently shed tears. "I just… I don't think I could give it up…" The brunette's gaze quickly returned to the floor in shame.

Once again, silence filled the room, and all that could be heard was the rattling of the windowpane as it was shaken by the strong winds, which whistled through the quiet air. Peter sat in the silent room, racking his brains for something encouraging to say; something to let her know that she was making a good decision.

But the thing was, he wasn't entirely sure that it was a good decision. Sure, it was what she thought was right, but was it the best thing for her? Why should she have to give up her future? College, a career, her prince, her perfect wedding: everything she wanted. Would she still be able to have it all?

"I just… I want to know that I'm making the right decision," Darcy said, her voice just above a whisper. Her eyes remained on the floor, as if she felt stupid, ashamed, embarrassed about her decision.

"Darcy," he said as he reached out and lightly squeezed her shoulder. What was he supposed to tell her? Why should he be the one influencing a decision as important as this? He remained silent for a moment; clueless as to what the hell he should tell her. How was he supposed to know what the right answer was when he didn't even know what the wrong answer was?

"Darcy," he said finally, "What do you really want to do? Are you keeping the baby because you think it's the right thing to do, or because it's what _you_ want?"

The brunette shook her head, and though he couldn't see her face, he could tell she had started to cry again.

"It's what I want…" her voice shook as she spoke, "I mean… I think it is." There was a pregnant pause before she continued, "I can't have an abortion. But… every time…" she trailed off, sniffling. When she spoke again, her voice came out louder, stronger, "Every time I think of giving it away, it makes me feel terrible… Like I'm giving it away because I don't want it. And I think about the life that child could lead… What if the parents are abusive? What if the baby gets hurt because _I_ chose to get rid of it?" She turned towards him, though she still refused to meet his eyes, "It sounds stupid…" she murmured, her voice becoming quieter, "But I think of _him_… I think of _him_ finding my child living with some other people. I think of my child ending up with _him_ because I wasn't around to protect it."

"Darcy, look at me." Peter spoke firmly, taking her small, cold hands into the warmth of his own. "Look at me," he pleaded, squeezing her hand lightly in reassurance.

Looking very much like a child that had been scolded by an adult, the brunette slowly turned to her boyfriend. Chocolate pools hesitated as they made their way up to meet the blond's crystal blue eyes.

"You are _not_ a bad person. You could have an abortion and it _still_ wouldn't make you a bad person. What that guy did to you-hey." As the last six words left his mouth, she shifted uncomfortably, and he noticed her attempts to avoid eye contact. Letting go of her hands, Peter cupped the shaking girl's chin in his hands, gently, yet firmly, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "If you don't want to keep the baby, it doesn't make you a terrible person. That bastard… he left you in a crappy situation. But you don't have to keep it. You don't have to let what **he** did to you ruin the rest of your life."

Darcy's brown eyes shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though the pair of crystal orbs was piercing through her, and she couldn't bear to look into them again. It felt as though he was reading her mind, hearing every thought, invading the images of her mind, _judging her_. She averted her eyes, feeling stupid for telling him her decision. It was probably a stupid decision, she thought, to want to keep the child of your… rapist.

"I don't know…" she mumbled, ignoring the sparkle of teardrops that littered her cheeks, "I thought I wanted to… but it's just… it seems stupid… Maybe I shouldn't keep it…" she murmured quietly, almost to herself, and the words came out rushed, separated by short pauses, or the sound of her sniffling.

"Darce… don't let whatever I say influence you," he replied softly, almost immediately after she had spoken. "It doesn't matter what I want… or what I think is best… or what anyone else wants… All that matters is what _you_ want." Darcy's eyes lingered on him minutes after he had spoken. She remained silent, though he could tell she was hesitant to answer, so he spoke again.

"This isn't about me, Darcy. It's about you. If you want to have an abortion… or give the baby up, _no one_ will think you're a bad person. Especially not me. If you want to keep the baby, I'll do whatever you need me to do. If your parents somehow don't agree with that decision, I'll get a job and I'll help you raise it. This is _your_ choice, Darcy. But whatever you decide to do, I'll support you."

"I… just…" Her words were quiet, voice shaky. She trembled as she spoke, looking like she wanted nothing more than to avoid this conversation and escape.

"Darcy," he said calmly, as he met her stare, "What is it that you want?"

The brunette opened her mouth to say something, but just as quickly as the bubblegum lips had parted, they closed once again. The room fell still once more, and Peter was growing sick of the silence between them. It was deafening.

"I… I want to keep it," she murmured, "It's the only thing that makes sense to me." Peter watched as her dark eyes slowly met his, searching for any kind of reassurance that he could provide her.

Peter nodded, holding his girlfriend tightly as she found her way back into his arms. Letting his chin rest upon the top of her head, he began to run his fingers through her hair, which had become unkempt from the restless winds.

"Okay."

* * *

Sorry for taking so long to write a new chapter... Extreme writer's block and whatnot... But I intend to start working on the next chapter as soon as I get off of work today...

I hope this chapter didn't suck... and that you all don't hate me because it's too short and I took too long for it...

And also, Peter may be a little out of character, but I felt that he said some of the things that needed to be said... so... yeah... Review? If you guys are still reading?


	14. Little Girl Blue

The park was vacant, the air still, save for the rattling of the chains and the creaking of an old swing set, where Darcy sat. The chains were wound tightly around each other as the brunette turned the swing, twisting them together. She paused for a moment before lifting her feet slightly off of the ground. The seat began to twirl quickly, until she placed her bare feet back in the muddy earth, slowing the momentum significantly as she let them drag along with the swing.

Three weeks had passed since the momentous day that she had made the decision to keep _his_ child. Manny and Peter were trying desperately to be supportive, but she could tell that they didn't know what to do anymore than she did. Claire had mentioned once or twice that she should tell their parents soon, but each time, Darcy refused, giving no more explanation other than the fact that she wasn't ready. She didn't think she'd ever be ready to shatter the image of herself that her parents knew and loved. The dread of doing this to her parents did nothing to help her worsening insomnia. The brunette hadn't gotten more than four or five hours of sleep each night since _him_, which is why she once again found herself sitting in the park in the middle of the night.

The swing came to a complete stop and she let go of the chains, then rested her elbows on her thighs, clad in light pink pajama pant material. Darcy leaned forward, resting her head in her hands as she let out a long, deep sigh, slowly closing her eyes as she did so. _What am I going to do?_

XxX

He watched intently as _she _slowed to a stop, head in hands, caramel locks gently flowing in the light breeze. Her beauty was intoxicating; _she_ was like a drug to him. It had been two months exactly since he'd had _her_, and it pained him like an drug addict going through withdrawal.

There was no way he would ever forget that night. _She_ had been the best out of all the others. But it wasn't just her beauty, it was _everything_: _her_ body, _her_ innocence, the control he'd had over _her_. _She_ was all he could think about, and it was driving him insane. He needed _her_; _she_ was his.

So he'd been following _her_, every day since that night. His addiction had led him to memorize _her_ address, _her_ school, the places _she_ would go with friends, _her_ boyfriend's house, and of course, the place _she_ had been coming every night for the past three and a half weeks. He would sit, near the bushes, awaiting _her_ arrival, and he would watch, listen, wait. Silence surrounded them like a thick blanket, though if he concentrated hard enough, he could hear _her_ soft sighs, see the sparkle of a teardrop as it reflected the moonlight. It was just him and _her_; nobody else.

XxX

A large gust of wind rushed past the brunette, sending a shiver down her spine. She sniffled as she shook, though it wasn't a result of her crying, and she was suddenly hit with waves of realization and remorse: she was getting sick. All this time she had been spending outside wasn't good for her, or the baby.

A small lump rose in her throat, though she quickly swallowed it, frustrated with herself for almost crying _again_. Was it possible, she wondered, that she was already screwing up the baby's life, even before she had had it?

Darcy shook her head irately, not wanting to venture further into the subject. She planted her feet in the muddy earth, feeling the dew on the grass dampen her feet, and rose from the swing. She crossed her arms tightly, as though she was giving herself a protective embrace and began to slowly make her way out of the park, eyes focused on the ground where her feet met the grass.

The park was silent around her, except the sound of chirping crickets, and the rustling of leaves as the wind disturbed their positions on the trees. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before, out of force of habit, looking over her shoulder.

As she examined the area, she couldn't help but feel stupid for constantly glancing behind her, when there clearly was no one but her in the park at that hour. Darcy shook her head, refocusing her attention on exiting the park.

She listened to the soft crumpling of the grass blades beneath her feet as she continued on, step by step. She briefly allowed her mind to wander as she questioned how long it had been since she'd left, but before she had estimated the answer, her thoughts were redirected to the sounds of her feet trudging through the dew-covered earth. Out of sheer curiosity as well as her own paranoia, the brunette froze in her steps. The noises of one walking through the grass, however, continued. _Someone else was there._

Heart beating wildly, fear pulsing through her veins, her first instinct was to run, screaming in the other direction. The brunette was prepared to do so when the logical part of her brain fought for control. _Maybe it's a police officer. _Or maybe not. _Whoever it is, running and screaming is just going to give you away. Especially if you don't know which direction you're supposed to be running in. _Darcy remained still, hoping to remain invisible in the thick night to the other person. Her heart pounded loudly in her head, though she prayed it would stop because it seemed so loud that she thought the other person might hear it.

_Are they getting closer?_

_Who is it?_

_Can they hear me breathing?_

Frantically, Darcy clapped a hand over her mouth, hoping to silence herself completely. The footsteps grew louder, _the person was getting closer._ She felt like bolting right then and there, but her legs seemed to be frozen.

"Darcy?" an unfamiliar voice called out through the darkness. Her heart was pounding furiously against her ribcage, so much that she thought it might explode in her chest.

"Darcy?" the voice called again.

Tears clouded her vision as she turned away from the source of the voice. Before her mind had even processed what she was doing, she found herself bolting away from the voice, out of the park. The brunette ran down the streets, passing people who usually would have sent her running in the opposite direction. Her breaths were short and ragged, and there was a sharp pain building in her side, but she kept running, wanting nothing more than to get home as soon as possible.

Fifteen minutes later, she found herself bolting down the familiar scenery of her neighborhood, straight through the welcoming landscape of her front yard. Mud covered the bottoms of her feet as well as the ends of her pajama pants. Her hair was windblown and unkempt, tear tracks stained her cheeks, and her body trembled violently, though not from the cold.

Balancing on the top of a trashcan, she began to pull herself onto the roof, where she quickly opened the window and climbed inside as quietly as she could.

The room was dark, she observed, but that was all she chose to take notice of. As soon as she pulled herself into the room, she closed the window, making sure to lock it, pulled the curtains closed, and dove into bed, throwing the pink comforter over her body.

Darcy grabbed her pillow, hugging it tightly to her chest. Sobs wracked her thin frame, though she pressed her face into the pillow to muffle them.

Thoughts were spinning around in the jumbled mess that was her brain. Who was that man? How did he know her name? He didn't sound like anyone she knew… There was something about his voice, though…

Allowing these thoughts to invade her mind only made her feel like she was reliving the moment, and her cries became louder at the thought of it.

She was so sick of this. Of crying every five seconds, and the fact that she couldn't seem to control any of her emotions anymore. All she wanted to do was to feel something other than the guilt, shame, fear, dirtiness, and utter despair that she constantly found herself a victim of. And it was because of those feelings that she couldn't seem to ever come out of something okay; that she couldn't ever seem to act strong; that all she could fucking do after everything was sit down a cry her fucking eyes out.

Darcy let out what sounded like a mixture of a scream and a sob in frustration, though it was mostly muffled by the pillow. She could feel the material grow increasingly moist as she continued to cry.

Crying was supposed to make you feel better. At least, that's what she had been told. So then why was it that every time she cried, it felt like the feelings of despair and hopelessness were growing worse? Why did it make her feel like there was a growing void in her heart where the old Darcy used to be?

"Darcy?" the brunette jumped, then recognized the voice. Darcy swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly pulled her head away from the comfort of the pillow.

"Leave me alone, Claire," she replied weakly.

"Darcy, you need to tell them," the girl said, sounding as though she was on the verge of tears. The brunette huffed, then threw the blankets off of herself in frustration.

"No."

"It's not-"

"I TOLD YOU NO. I TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES, _NO_. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE." Claire jumped at the sudden outburst, but didn't reply. The room fell silent, Darcy avoiding eye contact while her sister tried to meet her eyes.

After several minutes, there was a small clicking noise and light filled the room.

"Claire, what are you-"

"I know what you've been doing," the eleven year old whispered, her tone harsh, reprimanding as she motioned to the mud that decorated the windowpane and stained the carpet around it. Darcy remained silent.

"You've been going out every night for the past month… doing… who knows what… And I didn't say anything because I knew you were going through a hard time, and you always came back before 2 anyway." She paused, looking away, though Darcy could tell her eyes had become glassy with tears, "And then today, you didn't come back. And I waited for you to come back for hours, and you didn't come back until four thirty in the morning, Darcy. Four thirty!" She cried, forcing herself to meet her older sister's eyes. "What was I supposed to tell mom and dad?"

"Okay, so I won't go out anymore-"

"Yes you will!" She cried, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I don't know what you're doing out there, but I know you're going out because you're sad, and you came back today and you started crying, and I don't know what to do, because I know you told me not to tell them, but if mom and dad don't know, then you'll keep going out and you're going to get hurt!"

"I'm fine." Darcy said coolly, glaring at the younger girl.

"NO, YOU'RE NOT," she shouted

Darcy opened her mouth to reply, but froze when she heard a soft knock on the door.

"Girls?" her mother called softly from the hallway. Quickly, Darcy threw her blankets over the spots on the carpet that were littered with mud. She then positioned herself directly in front of the window, hoping to block the dirt that she'd soiled the windowpane with from her mother's sight. The doorknob rattled quietly and the door squeaked her mother slowly opened it.

"Sorry mom," Darcy said sweetly, "Claire and I were just having a stupid argument… We'll go back to bed-"

"No we weren't." Claire stated firmly, crossing her arms.

"Yes… we were," the brunette restated crossly, turning to glower at her sister.

"She's lying, mom. All she does is lie to you-"

"_What_ is your problem?" Darcy interrupted, furiously.

"Girls-"

"You can't keep it a secret anymore," Claire said, her voice starting to crack as the angry expression upon her face dissolved into one of concern. "Please… Darcy… Tell her." She paused, examining her older sister who stood, arms crossed, unmoving. "Tell her or I will."

* * *

**Blahh... that took longer than I expected to write... I started it the day I posted the last chapter, but... I don't know... it was just really hard to write for some reason... The words just weren't coming out... So... hopefully this doesn't suck... hopefully the magic isn't gone.**

**Sorry for the wait, people... I was on vacation and then the writer's block... and I just got my wisdom teeth out three days ago and I look like a chipmunk who is suffering the pain of the loss of four teeth that she really wouldn't have minded keeping.**

**Anyway, finished with the rambling... I know what I'm doing for the next chapter so hopefully it should be up by Saturday or Sunday (which is my birthday, by the way )**

**Thanks for all the reviews last time. I'm glad you guys are still reading, and the constructive crit helps a lot. I love hearing what you guys like about each part and what you're getting out of it... which I'm sure I've said like a billion times... But yeah... you guys are awesome and you inspire me to keep writing.**

**And I'm rambling again because I have entirely too much energy at the moment...**

**So... Hopefully this was a good chapter.  
Time to review?**


	15. Run

"What is going on?" her mother asked, the previous look of confusion on her face dissolving to show nothing but concern as her frown deepened. Avoiding eye contact with the older woman, Darcy shot a glare at her younger sister, who stood unmoving, features frozen in a grim expression as she turned away from her sister defiantly.

"What is going on?" it was her father who said it this time. The older man appeared behind his wife. He stood in the doorway, clad in grey sweats that seemed to match his dark, graying hair, and wearing an expression that resembled his wife's.

Darcy's eyes shifted from her father, to her mother, then back to Claire: she was trapped. Maybe she could still talk her way out of this…

"Tell them, Darcy."

"Tell us what?" her mother asked, gaze shifting from her youngest to her oldest, then back to Claire again.

"Tell them, Darcy," Claire repeated persistently.

"Stop," the brunette demanded, voice shaking. She somehow found herself taking a step back, as though the three of them posed as a threat to her.

"Honey, what is she talking about? What do you need to tell us?" the sweet, caring tone of her mother's voice was enough to make her physically ill, and she found herself taking another step back. Their eyes were on her, watching her every move, _burning_ through her skin.

"Tell them, Darcy," Claire repeated again, angry tears glittering in her eyes. She was doing this because she was trying to help, though any trace of sympathy seemed to be lost from her face.

"THERE'S NOTHING TO TELL!" She screamed, glaring at her sister, though her vision was blurred with tears. While she was furious with her sister at the moment, she also remembered her parents' presence in the room and was hit with an overwhelming feeling of terror.

"_Yes_, there is," the eleven-year old said firmly. "I can't let you do this anymore. They have to know. _You have to let them help you!_" she pleaded, droplets trailing down her cheeks.

"What are you two talking about?" her father demanded impatiently. Claire let out a sigh.

"Mom… Dad…"

"Don't."

"The reason Darcy-"

"Don't." Darcy repeated, voice shaking, a lump rising in her throat. Claire shot her a look of disappointment before turning back to face her parents.

"Two months ago, Darcy went to a party-"

"DON'T."

"And someone there-"

"I WAS R-," she started, but froze on the last word. Taking a deep breath, the brunette decided to try again, "I was," she tried, her voice barely audible. She couldn't seem to force the last word past her parted lips. Darcy took another deep breath, shutting her eyes tightly. "I was… raped." She managed to force the last word out, though saying it out loud made her feel 100 times worse and she was overcome with a wave of nausea. The lump that had formed in her throat had escaped as well when she'd forced herself to say _that_ word and a heartbreaking sob escaped from her lips. Holding a hand to her head, Darcy leaned back against her bedroom wall, then, using it to support her, allowed herself to slowly slide down to the floor.

"Oh... Darcy." The brunette kept her eyes shut, though she could tell her mother had started crying. Seconds later, she heard as her mother sat down beside her, felt as a bathrobe clad arm wrapped around her shaking frame.

Aside from her sobbing and her mother's whispered soothing words, the room fell silent. Darcy slowly peeked her eyes open, watching her father's expression intently.

His lips were pressed tightly together, his expression dark with rage, though she wasn't sure who it was directed at.

Was he angry at _him? _Or perhaps his rage was directed towards her. _She_ had snuck out to that stupid party. _She_ was the perfect daughter gone bad. _She _wasn't his daughter anymore, she was the broken shell of the perfect girl he used to know. _She _was tainted.

He said nothing. Her eyes shifted in attempt to meet his. The older man glared

ahead, eyes fixed on a random spot on the wall. He wasn't angry with her.

After a period of silence, he finally spoke.

"How did this…" he trailed off, the burning hatred displayed by his facial features melting to form an expression that matched her mother's.

"Who…" He trailed off again, seemingly at a loss for words. Darcy looked down, ashamed to meet the man's eyes.

"I don't know…"

"Oh, honey," her mother said softly and began running her fingers through her daughter's hair. Darcy flinched at the touch, but not wanting to offend her mother, said nothing, and instead, rested her head on the older woman's shoulder.

"Tell them the rest, Darcy," Claire said softly. Darcy looked up, noticing that the younger girl had moved from where she had been previously standing, and was now sitting on the bed closest to them. Her eyes were sympathetic, Darcy noted, and she looked much older than eleven at that moment.

"I can't…"

"They need to know, Darcy. They have to help you."

"I don't care," she snapped, raising her head to glare at her sister.

"What is she talking about?" her mother's concerned voice rang out through the silence of the room.

"Darcy, tell them," Claire pleaded, her wide brown eyes filled with worry. "Please… you need them to help you with this."

"_No I don't._"

"Honey… you can tell us. Whatever it is." The brunette glared at her sister once more before turning to her mother. She shook her head, a defeated look in her eyes.

"I can't…" she said softly.

"You have to," Claire insisted anxiously, "Darcy, you _have_ to. They need to help you. _Please. _Just… tell them."

"I _can't_," the brunette snarled, glowering at the younger girl. She felt as her mother began to gently rub her back, but yanked herself away from the touch.

"Okay," the younger girl replied quietly, "I'll do it for you."

"No," she said, her sudden bout of anger dissolving, only to be replaced, yet again, with anxiety. Her wild brown eyes darted in Claire's direction, pleading with the girl to stop. She watched as her sister frowned, shaking her head.

"Darcy's-"

"No."

"Darcy's pregnant." The room fell silent, while the two words echoed in the minds of her parents.

"I _hate_ you," she spat, fire in her eyes as she stared furiously at her sister. Avoiding the stares of her parents, she felt her heart beating frantically in her chest, heard it pounding in her ears. It felt as though all of the oxygen had been drained from the room, and her breath intake became more and more rapid as her eyes shifted nervously around the room. She wanted to leave; _needed_ to leave, but there was no way out: _He _was out there. _They_ were in here. _It _was always with her.

Darcy shook her head. She didn't care, she just wanted to leave. Her parents, the two words that hung over their heads through the thick silence, they were all suffocating her, and she couldn't bear to stay in the room any longer.

The brunette rose suddenly, quickly making her way over to the door, a determined look in her eyes. Her father, previously standing near the door, positioned himself so that he was blocking her exit.

"I need to leave."

"Darcy," he said calmly, "Why don't you go sit down?"

"No, I need to leave," she repeated anxiously, as she tried urgently to push past him.

"Darcy…" he said.

"_I NEED TO LEAVE_."

"Darcy." The words came from her mother this time.

The brunette struggled in pushing the weight of her father away from the door. He grabbed her arms, his vice-like grip holding them still, though when she peered up to meet his eyes, there was no anger in them.

"Darcy, sit down," he commanded, firmly, yet his voice was soft.

"NO. LET ME GO," she screamed. She struggled to remove her wrists from his grasp, but instead found herself growing weaker and more hysterical with each movement.

A loud sob erupted from her throat, and she collapsed into the comfort of her father's arms. The room was thick with a silence that still screamed everything she had just confessed to her previously ignorant parents, and everything she still had yet to say.

"What… do you want to do about it?" her mother's hushed tone breaking through the silence.

"She's giving it up, of course," her father answered before so much as a word had escaped the brunette's lips. Darcy pulled away from her father's embrace. It felt as though her heart had stopped. _They're never going to let me do this… _

"Ben, I think we should let her decide…"

"Kathryn, she's _seventeen_. She can't raise a child," he said adamantly, and all hope brought by her mother's words crumbled as if her father had taken a wrecking ball to them.

"I know she's seventeen, but this should still be _her_ decision."

"Let's not do this here, okay? Not in front of the kids." Darcy almost had to roll her eyes at the statement. She was already damaged. Who cared if watching her parents fight over _it_ damaged her a little bit more?

The two fell silent, a future fight visible in each pair of chocolate eyes that resembled her own.

"I want to keep it." The words were out of her mouth before her brain had had time to register what she was saying. Immediately after, she clamped her mouth shut, averting her gaze to a spot on the floor that was littered with spare change that had most likely fallen out of her purse at one point or another.

"Darcy," Ben said, "You can't do this to yourself. You have a future ahead of you: college, a career. You can't give that up because of that bastard. I won't let you."

"Ben!" Kathryn cried incredulously, as though she'd never heard the word before. She then turned to Darcy, "Do you know how big a decision like that is?"

Darcy nodded shyly. She sniffled quietly and wiped away a stray tear that was making its way down her cheek.

"I… I wasn't sure…" Her voice shook as she spoke, and she continued to avoid eye contact with either of her parents. "I can't have an a-abortion… I don't want to just give it away… I don't want it to find out that I gave it away…. I don't want it to think I hate it." She paused, closing her eyes, "I can't let someone else take care of it. What if they're abusive? What if it finds out who its father is? I just… I need to know that it's safe. Because I don't hate it. I know I have to give up a lot for it… I just… need to know that _he_ can't get it. And I don't know what to do, but Peter said to just do what I thought was right—"

"Peter?" she heard her father growl. Darcy mentally kicked herself for absentmindedly uttering the name of the person her father hated most. She lifted her dark eyes anxiously to meet his.

"He's been really helpful through this whole thing," she explained nervously, noting the fury in his eyes when her boyfriend's name came up. "He cares about me… I can tell."

"Darcy, whatever you decide to do, I'll support you," her mother reassured her. Though she could tell her mother truly supported her decision, she guessed that the older woman's words at that moment were most likely meant to distract her husband from the thought of his daughter dating Peter Stone.

"Kathryn, she can't have the baby. You can't just leave a decision as big as this up to her to decide, she's _seventeen_."

As the words left her father's mouth, Darcy could feel every bit of anger bubbling at the surface. Everything that _he_ had done to her, how _he_ had stolen _everything_ from her, how _he_ had left her stuck in this position, and now how her father was treating her like a child, letting her have no say in the decision. She wasn't a child anymore. Her innocence had been ripped away more than two months ago.

"Dad, if you have something to say, than you can say it to me!" Darcy yelled. Three pairs of dark brown eyes immediately shifted to her direction.

"Darcy," her father spoke, carefully, calmly, "You can't do this. You can't be a mother at seventeen. You realize that, don't you?"

"It's _my_ decision," she stated firmly, crossing her arms as she glared at the older man, who shook his head as the words left her mouth.

"You're a child. You're not capable of making a decision like this… of even understanding the consequences of a decision like this."

"I understand the consequences-"

"Look… you still have an hour before school starts… Why don't you go back to sleep for a while? We'll discuss this more later, and then I'll make a few calls in the morning to see if we can find a married couple who can take care of the-"

"YOU'RE NOT LISTENING TO ME," she screamed, the outburst causing the room to fall silent.

"Ben, you can't force her to give up the baby," her mother's quiet voice sounded from the corner where Darcy had previously been sitting.

"Yes I can. She's not ready for this."

"I already decided—"

"No," her father snapped, "You cannot keep this child. You have a future ahead of you, and I will not let it all go to waste because you made a decision that you didn't fully understand."

Feeling as though something had snapped inside, Darcy rushed over to the closet and pulled out a duffel bag. She then yanked open the drawers of her dresser and began filling the duffel bag with camis, sweaters, pants, and underwear.

"What are you doing?" her father demanded. Darcy remained silent and continued filling the bag with her belongings.

"You're not leaving."

"Yes, I am."

"_NO_, you're not!"

"I TOLD YOU WHAT I WANTED, DAD. I TOLD YOU, AND YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN TO ME!" She screamed, dropping the bag to the floor and facing the older man. She was so fucking sick of the lack of control she had over things. She couldn't control who she lost her virginity to, or when it happened. She had no control over the fact that _he_ got her pregnant, but she was _not_ about to let her father take this away from her. It was the only control over anything she'd had in the last two months.

"I AM NOT ABOUT TO LET MY DAUGHTER GIVE UP HER FUTURE BECAUSE SHE MADE THE STUPID DECISION TO KEEP THE CHILD OF THE MAN THAT RUINED HER LIFE."

"Ben!"

Furiously, Darcy zipped up the bag and made her way over to pick up her lime green messenger bag from where it sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand and stormed over to the door. As her fingers touched the doorknob, she heard her sister quietly plead for her not to leave. She felt her grip on the doorknob loosen for a moment, but then remembered her father and swung the door open.

"You are _not_ going to leave, Darcy."

"Honey, let me talk to her," Darcy heard her mother say as she made her way over to the steps. She had almost made it to the front door when she heard her mother call her name. Darcy froze, hesitant to turn back to face the woman. Soon after, she heard the soft padding of footsteps nearing her.

"Darcy," Kathryn said quietly, "Please don't leave. We only want what's best for you."

"What's best for me," Darcy spoke quietly, her voice shaking as she spoke, "Is that I live with someone who can support the choices I make." Kathryn nodded, eyes sparkling with teardrops.

"Who will you be staying with?"

"Manny," the brunette replied, uttering the name of the first person that came to mind that her mother would approve of. Kathryn nodded again, sniffling as she wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"He'll change his mind," she assured, "He will. And then you can come back."

"Tell Claire that it's not her fault." Her mother nodded once more and Darcy opened the door, the March breeze cooling her skin when she stepped outside. As she made her way down the driveway, she looked over her shoulder, taking in the scenery. She could imagine herself playing in the yard as she had done all those years ago: playing with her younger sister, showing her mother the new things she had learned in gymnastics, her father pushing her on the swing set they used to own. Each of those memories seemed to fade away before her eyes, and Darcy found herself feeling more alone than she had ever been in her entire life.

* * *

**So... all I really want to know right now is if it sucks or not... cause my friend read it and said it didn't, but I keep thinking that it sucks anyway.**

**Was Darcy ooc at all?**

**Anyway, review now **


	16. Shelter from the Storm

Though Peter was fifteen minutes early for class when he arrived at school Monday morning, the hallways were already packed with hordes of students; a low murmur of tired voices welcoming him as he entered the building. He joined the growing crowd of adolescents who were seemingly sleepwalking their way to class, and broke free of it minutes later when he arrived at his locker. The small metal storeroom, a fading blue color, dented, with patches of peeling paint, looked very much the same as it usually did, it's newest addition being a small, distressed looking brunette who sat on the floor, leaning against it.

"Peter…" The anguish in her tone was enough to make his grip go lax, and he let his bag fall to the floor near the brunette, with a soft thud.

"What happened?" came his immediate answer. Worrisome thoughts filled his head, millions of images of things he couldn't bear to see happen to his girlfriend coming to life in his mind.

"My… my parents…" Darcy trailed off, then quickly rose to her feet.

"What about them?" he had started to ask, but before the complete sentence had left his mouth, her arms were wrapped tightly around his midsection; her head resting against his chest. Though confused, Peter returned the embrace and pressed his lips lightly against her forehead.

"I can't go… I have to… I need…" she mumbled aimlessly into the comfort of his embrace, desperately searching for the right words.

"Darcy," Peter said quietly, "What's wrong?" _What the hell could it possibly be?_ He wondered, _what, after all of this, could make things worse than they already are?_

"I need to talk to Manny…" she paused for a moment before speaking again, "In private. I just… I can't do this in public… I can't talk about _it_… I need to talk to Manny… and you… I need you…" She mumbled, each word sounding more anxious, more rushed than the last. Though confused by the jumbled words, Peter nodded, wrapping an arm around the brunette's shoulder as he began to search for Manny.

XxX

"Okay, there's nobody in there," Manny said as she appeared from behind the door to the girls' washroom. Peter shook his head, a frown forming at the ends of his lips.

"I'm _not_ going in the girls' washroom."

"Uh… well too bad, cause it's the only place that we'll ever get any freaking privacy around this place."

"What if someone comes in?"

"Then they'll just think you're a pervert. And you are… so… win, win."

"I meant for Darcy's sake." Peter said, rolling his eyes.

"They won't, cause they _just_ got to class," Manny explained, rolling her eyes as well.

"Sorry…" Darcy said quietly, and was instantly met with two pairs of puzzled, yet sympathetic eyes. "I'm causing so much trouble… You guys are going to be late now…"

"Darce, I could care less about class," Peter said, turning to meet her eyes, "I care about you. Okay?" It was true: there wasn't much in life that Peter _did_ care about. He wasn't sure how he felt about his parents, who were always trying to pawn him off on the other. He was smart, but he didn't care about school, or studying. College only mattered to him so he could get a good job; become a director like he'd always wanted. He didn't care about money; he'd seen its affect on his father. The one thing he was sure of, though, was that he loved Darcy, and that he would do anything for her: anything to ensure that the next time she smiled, it would be a real smile, anything to make sure she was safe, anything just to know that this relationship would last. All he cared about was Darcy. Nothing else mattered; nobody else mattered.

"Will you hurry up?" Manny asked impatiently from inside the bathroom. Peter turned his head to the left, and then to the right, visibly scanning the hallways to see if they were clear.

"Oh my God…" he heard the raven-haired girl mutter exasperatedly, and felt as her hands roughly grabbed his arm and yanked him into the bathroom.

"Yeah, cause _that_ wasn't emasculating at all," Peter muttered sarcastically as the door swung shut behind him.

"Whatever, you weigh like ninety pounds or something." Her expression immediately softened as she turned to face her friend. "What did you need to tell us, Darce?"

The brunette's eyes instantly darted towards the ground, focusing on the grime that filled the cracks between the faded white tiles of the bathroom floor. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears; could feel it becoming more and more cracked with each and every beat.

Would one of them let her stay with them? Especially after all the trouble she'd caused them… Who would _want_ her to live with them? _She was having a baby._ She was a screwed up basket case who couldn't control her emotions anymore. She was reckless: she got up in the middle of the night and snuck out. She was pathetic. She would bring the danger of _him_… or the man from the park with her. Could she really put her friend or her boyfriend in danger because of her?

She was disobedient: she wouldn't give up the baby like her father asked.

Darcy tried her best to swallow the dreaded lump that was forming in her throat and took a deep breath. She _hated_ thinking about it. She hated that Claire had forced her to tell her parents. She hated her dad for trying to force his decision on her. But most of all, she hated herself because she was the one that wouldn't listen; she was the one that left.

"Darcy?" Manny said, her brown eyes patient and caring.

"I need a place to stay," Darcy said, her words just barely audible. Peter and Manny had no trouble hearing them, though, and looked to her with confused expressions.

"This morning… Claire made me tell them."

"Why?" Manny asked, the confusion in her eyes dissolving into concern. "What happened?"

"It's… It's not important. Claire was going to do it, but I told them… and then she told them about the baby… And I said I wanted to keep it… and I told them it was because I thought it was the right thing… for me…" She trailed off, wondering if she would be able to tell them the rest of the story without crying again.

"I take it they didn't take it well," Manny noted quietly. Darcy nodded, and felt Peter rest his arm around her shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

"My-my mom… she said she would support me." Darcy paused, blinking back tears, desperately trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She felt her lower lip trembling, and knew, once again, that she pathetically, would not be able to stop herself from crying.

"My dad said… I should give it up," she whispered, and felt as the first tear broke away from the pools in her eyes and slid down her cheek.

"And you didn't agree…" Manny guessed quietly. Darcy nodded, looking up from the floor with hopeless eyes as she wiped the tear away with the sleeve of her sweater. Peter remained silent, but squeezed his girlfriend's shoulders once more.

"You were right, Darce," the raven-haired girl assured softly, "It's not his decision."

"I know that!" Darcy shouted suddenly, and felt Peter tense at her sudden outburst. "I told him that, but he just kept telling me that I had to give it up. I told him over and over…" Her words were soon drowned out by the heartbreaking sobs that escaped her lips, that shook her entire frame, that once again let her know that she was _pathetic_.

"Bastard," she heard Peter mutter.

"NO!" Darcy cried furiously as she immediately pulled herself out of his embrace. "This isn't his fault," she said, ignoring the tears that overflowed from her chocolate orbs, "This is my fault. He just wanted what was best for me. _I _was the one that wouldn't listen. _I _was the one that ran away. _I _was the one that snuck out to that stupid party in the first place!"

Peter and Manny exchanged worried glances, their expressions almost identical when they turned back to face the brunette.

"Darcy, you know it wasn't your fault," Peter assured, reaching for her hand.

"I told him it was my choice like _you_ said. _You_ told me it was my choice," Darcy said, as if she hadn't heard him, and ripped her hand out of his reach. "And I was stupid, and I listened to you and he said my decision was stupid and now he _hates _me," she continued, ignoring the hurt she saw in Peter's eyes.

"He doesn't hate you, Darcy," Manny said empathetically, "He just doesn't really understand your choice because it's different from what he thinks is best for you."

"I wanted them to support me… I wanted _him_ to support me," she said angrily, her frustration growing as she spoke. She felt like screaming, but her throat was still sore from earlier that morning, and she wasn't sure she could do it without the inevitable possibility of another breakdown. "But he didn't care about what I wanted to do. He said he was going to call someone this morning to see if he could find a family who could _actually_ take care of it. And I should have listened to him, but I didn't. I had to have it _my_ way." There was a pregnant pause before she spoke again, "So I left," she explained quietly, then threw her arms up in defeat as she allowed a small sob to escape her lips.

"I still think you should go talk to your parents about this, but—"

"I can't!" Darcy shouted, suddenly furious with her friend, "Don't you get it? I _can't_! He's trying to do what's best for me, but it's _not_ what I want, and he's trying to make all my decisions for me, and I just… I _can't_. I need to be in control of something. I need to be in control of _this._"

The room fell silent for a moment, and Peter shifted uncomfortably from his position beside the raven-haired girl. His mouth opened, as if he were about to say something, but seconds later, closed it again and focused his attention on the floor.

"I don't want to bother you guys… but I just… I really need somewhere to go." Her words were just barely audible, and she looked to the ground, ashamed; afraid to meet the eyes of her friend and boyfriend.

"Okay," Manny said softly, and the room fell silent once again, save for the quiet thuds of the girl's flats touching the floor as she walked over to her friend. She placed an arm around the shorter girl's shoulders and squeezed them comfortingly. "I'll go home after school and ask my mom if you can stay."

"Don't tell them," Darcy said abruptly, the loudness of the precipitated words startling both Peter and Manny when they left her mouth. She chewed her lip nervously, her expression fearful, her eyes pleading.

"I won't," Manny promised, rubbing her friend's shoulder comfortingly. Her concern for the brunette grew as she observed the anguish etched into the guilt-ridden expression that Darcy wore. But when she looked from the younger girl to the blond, saw the hurt and anger ablaze in Peter's eyes, she was surprised at the compassion she suddenly felt for him.

XxX

"I'm sure they'll say yes," Peter reassured his girlfriend for what seemed like the millionth time that day. The two of them sat outside, on the steps leading up to the entrance of Degrassi, waiting for Manny to return with the good news, or… just news. He'd have to be lying to himself to say that he was happy that she was going with Manny.

_Manny_, who had been the one to say all the right things earlier. _Manny_, who had been the only one who could comfort Darcy. _Manny,_ who Darcy wasn't mad at, who Darcy didn't blame for the fight she'd had with her family. _Manny_, who was being so goddamn helpful, Peter wasn't even sure if he was needed anymore.

"There she is," Darcy said quietly. Peter turned to look in the direction the brunette was looking in. The sun was shining in the clear blue sky above, the weather opposing the emotions shared by the three teens that day. Sure enough, the raven-haired girl was walking toward them, down the nearly deserted street, her expression unreadable.

"What did they say?" Peter asked, standing up when she reached them. Anxiously, he searched her eyes, trying to find the answer before it was spoken out loud. Disappointment shone in her dark orbs, the ends of her soft lips curving downwards. She opened her mouth, looking as though she was about to give an apology, then closed her mouth again, pressing her lips together so that they became colorless from the pressure. Peter could tell from her body language that she didn't have good news.

"I tried, Darce," she said, looking regretful. "I told them you needed a place to stay because you got into a fight with your parents. I told them it was serious, and that it would take a while for you to get over your differences." She paused, a wave of guilt washing over her, "But I've been there and done that with my parents, and they said the best thing to do was to let you go home and see if you could work it out with your parents."

"Oh," Darcy said quietly, fixing her gaze on the untied shoelaces on her black Converse low tops.

"I tried, Darcy. I told them it wasn't the same." She paused for a moment, then sat down on the other side of the brunette, a pensive look crossing her face. "You could stay with Emma," she suggested, giving her friend a small smile.

"Yeah," Peter said, tone dripping with sarcasm, "Because Emma won't notice when she gets bigger, leaves one day, and comes back with a baby."

"People are going to find out anyway, Peter," Manny reminded him, after shooting him a glare for his caustic words. "What about Chante?"

"But _we_ already know." Peter said, ignoring her last sentence. Realization flooded over Manny's face, and she frowned at the blond before rising from the steps.

"Peter, can I talk to you for a second?" Rolling his eyes, Peter got up and followed the girl into the building, so that they were both out of earshot to Darcy.

The hallway was nearly deserted, though two or three students wearing matching bored expressions sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.

"What?" he asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

"Are you serious?"

"About…?"

"You're going to ask Darcy to live with you?" Manny asked incredulously, making sure to keep her voice down.

"Why not?"

"For one, genius, she's going to get bigger, and your mom is going to automatically assume it's yours," she pointed out, using the same hushed tone as before, "Second, she's _pregnant_ and she needs someone to be there for her." Peter frowned.

"What are you talking about? I am there for her."

"We don't know how long it's going to be before she goes back home. She needs a more permanent living situation. She needs to live with a friend," Manny clarified. Peter shook his head, frustrated, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Manny said nothing, watched as the sudden comprehension caused anger to wash over his expression, replacing the previous bewilderment. "What, you think I'm going to break up with her or something?"

The raven-haired girl remained silent, offering him nothing more than an apologetic look.

"Whatever," Peter muttered. He shook his head, then started off in the direction of the principal's office, brushing against Manny as he passed her.

He was getting sick of standing around, watching Darcy get hurt, while he stood by, powerless, and watched. When people tried to help her, they actually seemed to be helping; but when _he_ tried to help, it only seemed to make things worse than they already were. The least he could do was offer her a place to stay; where he _knew_ she was safe.

"Mom?" he called, peering into the small, cluttered office.

"Just let me finish this, and then we can leave," she said without looking up from the paper she was reading at her desk.

"Actually, I need to talk to you about something," he told her as he stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. At the sound of the door clicking shut, his mother looked up with a frown.

"What did you do?" she sighed. Peter shook his head, making his way across the room. He pulled out the chair on the opposite side of his mother's disheveled desk and sat down at it.

"It's Darcy."

"Oh," she said, and he could hear the exasperation in her tone dissolve into concern.

"She got into this huge fight with her parents, and now she can't go home, and she needs a place to stay."

"And you want her to stay with us," his mother presumed.

"Well… yeah."

"Peter, considering what happened in January, maybe it's best if she does go back to her parents."

"She can't," Peter said irritably, growing frustrated with the way the conversation was going.

"Whatever the problem is, I'm sure she can work it out with her parents—"

"No," he snapped, "She can't. She tried, and she can't."

"Peter, two months ago, a student found her in the locker room, trying to commit suicide. I have staff members reporting outbursts in the middle of class, telling me that she's sleeping during class, having nightmares. Not to mention the fact that she didn't show up until first period this morning—and don't think I don't know that you cut first period too—"

"Mom, this isn't just some stupid problem that she'll magically get over. She's not going to make up with her parents any time soon."

"If you know what the problem is, then you should be convincing her to go talk to her parents about it. Not allow her to run away—" Her sentence was cut short when Peter slammed his fist down on the desk. Several papers slid off the desk and slowly fell to the floor, while the vibration rattled a box of paper clips, causing it and several other objects to tip over. When the blond looked up at his mother, anger burned in his eyes.

"She… was… raped," he growled. His mother stared at him, speechless. "She was raped, and now she's pregnant, and if she stays there, then her dad is going to make her give up the baby."

"Peter—"

"I could have stopped it from happening, and I didn't and it's just been one thing after another since then and I haven' been able to do a goddamn thing about it," he spat. He hated that Darcy only seemed to want help from Manny, and he hated that his mom didn't seem to be listening to him. Most of all, he hated the fact that no matter what he did, he only seemed to be screwing things up more for Darcy.

"Okay," his mother said softly, after a long period of silence, "Go tell her she can stay with us." Peter nodded, then rose from his seat and made his way over to the door. "Peter," she said as he gripped the cool metal of the doorknob, "I'm proud of you. You've come a long way these past couple of months."

He should have felt good about finding somewhere for Darcy to stay. It was what he had wanted, after all. But the image of Darcy's fear filled eyes when she'd told Manny not to tell her parents flashed in his memory, and a nagging voice at the back of his head told him that all he had really done was screw up _again_.

* * *

**Okay... this was probably the hardest chapter to write... ever. I knew what I was trying to write, but I couldn't get the right words to come out... and then I was worried about not having enough description in it... and I was also worried about keeping Peter in character. So it took me days to write this... and I'm still not sure I'm happy with it, so I might still take it down and fix it... but... here you go...**

**Oh... and thanks for all those reviews last chapter. I got 9! :D**


	17. Grey Room

In the time that Peter and Manny were gone, the streets had slowly become littered with people. Darcy tried to keep her focus on her shoes, on the shadows that danced on the cement steps when her shoelaces floated in the breeze. Every five minutes or so, however, she found herself looking back up, wondering if _he_ was there.

Feeling the falsely departed paranoia return, her eyes shifted up, taking in the scenery. She focused intently on the images before her, scanning every crowd, looking as far as she could through the lush, green leaves of the bushes and the trees, near each dumpster for any sign of the man that could be _him_. She would stare so fixedly at the streets, filled with joggers passing by, children on bicycles, people driving by in their cars, that she'd have the scene memorized by the time she looked back down.

Her imagination would run wild, and she formed several mental pictures of _him_ appearing behind part of the scenery, walking down the street, _coming for her_. By then, it would be time to look up again, and let the cycle repeat itself.

"Darcy." She jumped as the sound of her name interrupted her thoughts, startling her.

The brunette tensed, eyes frantically searching the area around her. She then relaxed, as she turned her head to the right and saw Peter lowering himself into a sitting position on the same step that she sat on. Seconds later, Manny appeared on her left, glancing in the blonde's direction.

"My mom said you can stay with us," Peter offered quietly, turning towards her. His eyes were squinted, in an attempt to shield out most of the bright rays of light that shone directly in his eyes due to the position he was sitting in. Darcy could tell from his tone, and the way his lips were twisted into an uncertain frown that he was hesitant about the decision.

_Does he not want me there?_ She couldn't help but wonder. _Maybe I'm just too crazy to live with. I've already put him and Manny through so much…_

"I mean… if you want to," he clarified.

"I… I don't know… I mean… if you don't mind… I don't want to bother you… I can try to go back home—"

"You're not bothering anyone, you just need a place to stay. But if you don't want to stay with me, then we'll figure something else out. You don't have to go home, Darce," he promised, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Darcy gazed up at him lovingly, appreciation swimming in the depths of her sad brown eyes. "Thank you, Peter," she said, a small, real smile touching the ends of her lips for the first time in weeks. Darcy leaned into the embrace, resting her head against his chest. As his other arm closed in around her, it felt as though all of her problems had temporarily disappeared. All that mattered was her resting her head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, taking in his scent, and his arms tightly encircling her in a protective embrace, keeping her problems at bay.

XxX

Peter's house was very different from hers: that was the first thing she'd noticed when she entered the foreign home, took in her surroundings. The walls were decorated with paintings, corners adorned with fake plants. The fine furnishing successfully covered up the bare spots of the room, yet it somehow still seemed bare to her. Based on the appearance of the living room, it was hard to tell that the building was home to a family. Few photos were visible; no stray belongings were left around the house.

Darcy pictured her own house: Claire's books littering the floor of the family room; piles of magazines stacked in the corner; shelves decorated with family pictures and the pieces of 'art' she had made in kindergarten, and ever since then had hated having displayed; DVDs scattered on the coffee table; the slight unkemptness was welcoming.

"The kitchen is in there," Ms. Hatzilakos informed, gesturing towards a wooden swinging door on the far side of the room, "And the bathroom is just down the hall. You'll be staying in the spare bedroom, which Peter can show you—"

"Ms. Hatzilakos," Darcy cut in, nervously fidgeting with her sleeves as she looked up at the taller woman, "Thank you… for letting me stay."

"It's no trouble," she replied, giving the brunette a warm smile, "Really."

Darcy returned the smile half-heartedly. There was something about the way her principal smiled at her. Was there sympathy in the lines of her smile? Had she detected pity in the depths of the woman's brown eyes?

It was then that the brunette began to ponder the details of the decision. It should have taken longer for her to agree to something like this, shouldn't it have? What had Peter done to convince her? Had he told her? Did Ms. Hatzilakos know about everything? Had Peter told the woman what a _slut _his girlfriend was now?

"Darcy?" Peter's voice cut through the jumbled thoughts that streamed through her mind. The brunette looked up, forcing herself to appear calm, though the heart pounding furiously in her chest, and the dozens of emotions she was assaulted with at that moment dared to prove her wrong.

"Yeah?"

"Did you want me to show you your room?" It felt weird for Peter to refer to anything as _her_ room, other than… well, her room: the one she shared with Claire. Still, she nodded and followed her boyfriend up the flight of stairs. The walls in the stairwell were mostly bare, unlike the baby picture decorated walls of her home, and left her feeling unwelcome.

Darcy trailed after the blond until they reached a door on the right side of the hallway. Peter opened the door, stood outside the frame as he waited for her to enter the room. The walls were a light blue color, the bedspread a deeper blue. The floor, covered with an off-white carpet, was bare, save for the bed and nightstand, on top of which sat a dusty, clear glass lamp.

It was hard to think of this as her new home. Especially with the image of her old room flashing so brightly in her mind. The mental image of the dark pink walls littered with posters, lacy curtains, girly pink and white bedspreads covering two identical beds, and cluttered desk did nothing to assuage the dull ache in her heart as she yearned to be back home.

"Darcy—" But then Peter spoke again, and thoughts of her home were directed back to the pity she had sworn she'd seen in his mother's eyes only minutes ago.

"Did you tell her?" Darcy demanded, spinning around on her heel to face him. Peter frowned in confusion.

"About what?"

"You know what," She spat furiously.

"No," he said, "No. Of course not."

"Then why did she agree so easily to letting me stay?"

"I think she considered what happened in January…" he explained, the volume of his voice decreasing with the last few words. She could tell he hated thinking about _that_ as much as she hated thinking about _him_. He still couldn't say the word 'suicide'; she couldn't say the word 'rape.'

"I think she thought that you needed help… so… she's trying to help." Darcy watched his face intently, attempting to read his expression. She knew almost everything about Peter, and throughout the course of their relationship, she'd learned to read most of his expressions. But it was nearly impossible to tell when he was lying.

"I didn't tell her, Darce. I swear," he insisted. Darcy sighed.

"Sorry. I just… I'm not ready for anyone else to know…"

"I know," he acknowledged. He then licked his lips and continued, "Darcy, you said you didn't want anyone to know. So I won't tell anyone. Ever." The brunette looked up at him, offering him a weak smile.

"Okay." The room fell silent until Peter spoke again, minutes later.

"So… uh… Do you want anything? Cause I can go get you something…"

"I'm fine," she said, acknowledging the stale taste of the words as they left her mouth. "I think I'm just going to go to sleep."

"Okay," Peter said softly as he exited the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Darcy dropped the bag of her hurriedly collected belongings in the bare corner on the opposite side of the room from the bed.

She then trudged over to the bed, and allowed her legs to give away, feeling instant comfort as her body made contact with the bed. Without taking her shoes off, she lifted her feet onto the bed and laid down, letting out an audible sigh as she did so. With tired eyes, she gazed up at the bleak ceiling, struggling to find a moment of internal peace; a calm in the storm of painful memories.

_"I AM NOT ALLOWED TO LET MY DAUGHTER RUIN HER LIFE BECAUSE OF SOME STUPID DECISION…"_

The words echoed in her mind, continuously exacerbating the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. _Am I making the right decision? Maybe it is stupid, like he said…_

Why couldn't something _for once_ go right in her life? She should be getting support from her family, not just Peter and Manny. She didn't belong here, shouldn't be here. This wasn't _her_ house; it was Peter's.

Of course with that thought, the longing ache in her heart worsened, the feelings of homesickness taking control of her mind, and she was instantly reminded of her first sleepover.

Darcy had been seven at the time, excited to be spending the night at her friend's house. She had been playing with dolls in the basement, but all she could focus on was the fact that she wasn't playing dolls in _her _house, that when she went to the kitchen, it wasn't _her _kitchen, when she walked into the living room, it wasn't _her _parents who were sitting there.

Of course things were much simpler back then. But even now, the only thing Darcy could focus on were the blue walls and how they should have been pink. The walls were bare, when they should have been covered with posters. The corners were empty where a desk or a TV should have been. The bed should have had a pink and white comforter.

The sheets weren't right either, she noted as she turned over, burying her face into the pillow, the scent of laundry detergent filling her nostrils. They didn't smell right. They didn't smell like her, or Claire, or her mother, or her home. It was wrong, all of it was wrong.

The pillowcase felt cool against her skin as it became dampened with tears. The girl's body shook with quiet sobs, her sad heart's pained cry against the abandonment of her loved ones. The ache in her chest was quickly worsening, and it felt as though her heart explode, shattering into pieces.

But she couldn't go home, not when the baby wasn't welcome. But then, how long would she be in this unfamiliar place? Would her father give up, focus his attention on the daughter that _hadn't_ screwed up? Would she eventually be forgotten? Forced out of their memories like a bad dream?

She hugged the pillow to her chest, hot tears now splashing on the exposed sheets. But all she could think about was the fact that she should be in _her_ room, hugging one of _her_ stuffed animals to her chest.

Wrong, it was all wrong. _Everything_ was wrong.

* * *

Sorry that took so long to get up... First week of school last week... and already I have like two projects and a research paper and a bunch of other crap. \ Blech.

I will try to update as frequently as I can, though.


	18. Unwell

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell  
I know right now you can't tell  
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see  
A different side of me  
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired  
I know right now you don't care  
But soon enough you're gonna think of me  
And how I used to be...me_

**_Unwell- Matchbox Twenty_**

Her eyelids cracked open, leaving the chocolate orbs vulnerable to the bright rays of light that streamed in through the window, which throbbed slightly as she began to get accustomed to the lighting. Her eyes searched the unfamiliar bedroom, brows furrowing in confusion before she remembered the events of yesterday, and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. Darcy pulled herself up into a sitting position. Judging by her fully clothed body, and the shoe clad feet that dangled off the side of the bed, the slightly unkempt, yet still made bed, and the abandoned duffel bag in the corner of the bleak room, the brunette guessed she had fallen asleep shortly after she had broken down, crying into her- _Peter's_ pillow.

"Darcy?" Ms. Hatzilakos called, her voice accompanied with a soft knock at the door. Almost immediately, Darcy rose from her position on the bed and walked over to the door, feeling obligated to let the older woman in, seeing as it was _her_ room, not the brunette's. Taking a deep breath, she painfully forced her lips to form a smile, and opened the door.

"Yes?"

"School starts in an hour," the blonde informed, giving the girl a warm smile, "The bathroom's down the hall if you want to take a shower. I don't know how many things you brought with you, but I can always go out and buy an extra toothbrush, or shampoo, or whatever you need…"

"Oh… you don't have to."

"It's no trouble," Ms. H reassured, kindness shining through her brown eyes. She flashed the girl a smile once more before starting down the hallway and knocked loudly on the door at the end of the hall. "Peter, for the fifth time, get up!" She yelled through the door, displaying a drastic change in the comforting tone she had previously shown Darcy. A low grumbling was heard from the other side of the door, and the woman sighed in response before turning and making her way back downstairs.

With hesitance, Darcy slowly left the comforting privacy of the guest room and trudged into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. As she gazed into the mirror, she was immediately overwhelmed with a strong feeling of repulsion. Oily, unkempt strands of hair were all clumped together in a side ponytail, while loose strands hung down, lightly touching the tear stained cheeks. Her eyes seemed hollow, sunken, and were encircled with dark bags: a physical effect of the insomnia. Pale lips were paralyzed in a grim line, making any attempt at a smile physically painful.

Her eyes then lowered down her thin frame to the small bulge of her stomach. Immediately she envisioned the finger marks of _him_ tattooed on the small of her back; her face, hips, thighs, and breasts, all tainted with his touch. She looked disgusting. She felt disgusting. She _was_ disgusting.

Her throat burned as she felt herself start to gag. Darcy lowered herself to the ground, gripping the toilet seat for support as her body convulsed with dry heaves.

"Darcy?" she heard Ms. Hatzilakos call through the door, though it felt as though she had cotton in her ears. Her eyes stung with tears as she retched once more, miserably waiting for it to end.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Darcy managed to utter, though she wasn't exactly sure how the words managed to escape her lips in between the horrid sounds of retching.

When she had regained her composure, Darcy slowly stood up and turned on the shower before undressing. She then stepped into the shower, embracing the hot water droplets as they reached her bare skin.

Over the past few months, she'd grow to hate the idea of taking a shower. Showers were supposed to make you clean. But they didn't; at least not for her. Because she had to be dirty in a different way: a way that no matter how much soap she used, or how hard she scrubbed, or how many showers she took, it would never go away. She could never be clean again.

When Darcy stepped out of the shower, she quickly dried herself off and dressed herself in yesterday's clothes, which sat, neatly folded in a small pile in the corner of the bathroom. The brunette then turned to face the mirror, the glass surface cloudy with a thick layer of steam. She reached out, wiping a small portion of the condensation away, and examined the frail brunette who stared blankly back at her.

Sure, she had cleaned up since she last saw her reflection, but the image seemed to remain the same. Her lips held no promises of a smile that wasn't artificial. Her eyes were glazed over, haunted, though the dark shadows under her eyes suggested two lifeless orbs in their place. The girl in the mirror was a stranger to her.

As she observed the foreigner, she wondered where the traces of Old Darcy had gone, both physically and mentally. Had she vanished without a trace? Or had she been washed out by this overpowering wave of hopelessness, never to return again? She wanted so badly to be able to reach out and pull her back, because Old Darcy could get through this. Old Darcy was strong, Old Darcy had faith, Old Darcy was brave. But Old Darcy was gone, and she could see that in the sickly appearance of New Darcy.

Closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath, she forced the masquerade of cheerfulness to return to her features. She slowly pulled the door open and exited the bathroom, making her way back into the guest room. The brunette shut the door behind her, quickly changed into a lavender cami, and slid off the sweatpants she had been wearing, before searching through the duffel bag for a pair of pants. When she felt the rough texture of the jean material, Darcy pulled the article of clothing out of the bag. Realization flooded over her as she recognized the dark colored pants, she immediately threw them to the ground and frantically dug through the bag for something else to wear. Finding nothing, her anxious eyes darted towards the daunting pair of skinny jeans that lay in a crumpled heap by the door. Why hadn't she packed more jeans? Why did she have to have _those_ jeans?

The ones she had thrown in the back of her closet, and sworn that she would never wear, or even lay eyes on again. The ones that had stayed in the closet for weeks until her mother found them, washed them, and put them back in her dresser. The ones that were, and would always be, tainted with _his_ unwanted touch.

_'Just get over it,'_ she thought angrily, _'There's nothing you can do about them. You could wash them a thousand different times, and they'll still be the same fucked up jeans that you started with.'_

With hesitance, Darcy slowly picked up the discarded pair of jeans, and slid them on. As she pulled them up to her waist, she could feel the material cling more and more tightly to her body, and she shuddered as she touched the cool metal of the zipper, and began to pull it upwards. It stopped halfway, the jeans clinging to her body with an uncomfortable tightness.

Darcy Edwards: Fat, disgusting, pregnant slut

A lump started to form in her throat as she tugged urgently at the zipper. Unsuccessful, Darcy attempted to pull the silver button to a close, only to find that the two ends refused to fully meet. She tried sucking in her stomach, though she knew it would be ineffective, and still, the button refused to button, the zipper refused to zip. With a sudden surge of rage and frustration, Darcy seized the bag full of clothing and threw it as hard as she could against the door before sliding down, to the floor with her back against the wall, and dissolving into tears.

She sat in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest. Her dark, wet hair was tangled in wild knots, which concealed her face, red with anger, and the tears that overflowed from her eyes.

She was crazy; she knew it must have looked that way. Why else would she be having a breakdown for no reason at all? Before she had cried because of _him_, because she was scared, because she wanted nothing more than to be able to go home and have the support of her family. Now she was crying over a pair of pants that for obvious reasons would no longer fit her growing figure.

:"Darcy?" Peter's voice sounded, accompanied by a soft knock on the door. The brunette remained silent, and the doorknob rattled slightly as it was turned. The door squealed softly as it opened, revealing her boyfriend's tall, lanky frame.

Immediately noticing the anguish etched into her features when he entered the room, Peter walked over to his girlfriend, and knelt down in front of her.

"Darce," he said softly, his brow furrowed in confusion, lips forming a worried frown. The brunette whimpered, lowering her gaze to the floor in shame.

"Hey," Peter soothed, gently placing two fingers under her chin, and bringing her face up to meet his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Trembling, she shook her head, and jerked away from the touch before burying it between her knees. She heard Peter sigh in response, and the room fell silent for a moment. "I'll be back in a second, okay?" she heard him reassure, followed by the soft thudding of his footsteps as he exited the room.

Several minutes after Peter had left the room, Darcy slowly lifted her head up. Her breathing had relaxed, her eyes still glossy, but the tears on her cheeks had dried. She knew she must have looked disgusting, and for that reason, wished that Peter would just go to school and leave her here. She didn't want him to see her; didn't want to have to explain _this_ breakdown; didn't need to give him more reason to believe that she was a hopeless basket case. Because that was all New Darcy was, anyway.

Closing her eyes, Darcy leaned her head back, resting it against the sky blue colored walls, and let out an audible sigh. A low hum of voices could be heard from downstairs, throughout the empty household. Minutes later, the murmuring faded out into silence, and the soft padding of footsteps grew louder and louder as they neared the room.

"I talked to my mom," Peter told her as he reentered the room and sat down beside her.

"What did you tell her?" Darcy asked hoarsely, her inquiry sounding more like a statement.

"I told her you weren't feeling well, and that you couldn't go to school. She said you could stay home." Darcy nodded.

"Thank you, Peter."

"She also said she was worried about you, and that someone should stay home with you," he continued, "so I volunteered. So you got both of us out of school today, Darce. Thanks," he said, attempting to elicit a smile from the girl. Darcy remained silent, offering him a wan smile in response.

"So what happened?" the blond asked, the grin on his lips dissolving into a concerned frown. Darcy shrugged nonchalantly as she turned her head slightly to the right, refusing to meet the eyes of the boy to her left.

"Darce…"

"It's nothing. Just forget it."

"It didn't look like nothing."

"Well it was," she spat, anger flashing in her eyes.

"Darcy, come on," he snapped. His tone then softened, "Look, I'm really worried about-." Peter's words were cut off when the brunette launched herself into his arms. She brought her hands up to the sides of his face, and pressed her lips against his. These were the things that Old Darcy did.

Peter's lips remained limp against hers, and she retaliated with a more forceful kiss, which the blond still did not return. Instead, two strong hands firmly closed in around her biceps, and he pulled away from her kiss.

"What are you doing?" The brunette looked away dejectedly, eyes focused on the floor.

"You don't kiss me anymore." Peter frowned in confusion.

"Yes I do…"

"No you don't. You kiss me on the cheek, or on the forehead, but not on the lips. And not like you used to."

"Darcy, what are you talking about?"

"You treat me like I'm crazy. I'm not," she said, meeting his eyes as she spoke. She reached up to wipe her eye, clearing away the tears that had begun to cloud her vision.

"I'm not crazy, Peter, I swear," she said in a small voice.

"No one thinks you're crazy, Darcy," Peter reassured calmly, brow furrowed in confusion as to what had brought this on.

"You do."

"No I don't," he said with a frown.

"Yes you do. And so does everybody else: Manny, my parents, Claire, all of my teachers, everybody at school. I'm the girl who has to go see Ms. Suave every single week because I'm on _suicide watch_. The whole school knows it."

"You're not crazy-"

"Two months ago, I tried to _kill myself_, Peter," she spat. Peter blanched noticeably as the last few words left her mouth. "I can't control any of my fucking emotions anymore. I'm always scared. I end up crying almost every day. I threw my bag across the room earlier and started crying because I can't fit into my old jeans anymore." A quiet, humorless laugh escaped her throat, "You don't even treat me the same."

"Darce, I'm just trying to help," he said, his words gentle as he reached out to hold her hand. Darcy yanked it out of his reach, and rose from the floor. She moved over to the bed, sitting down on the cobalt blue comforter. Elbows resting on her knees, she buried her face in her hands. An overpowering silence invaded the space between the two.

Suddenly feeling overcome with fatigue, the brunette lowered her small frame on to the bed, embracing the comfort that the mattress provided.

"I didn't even want to wear the jeans," she spoke, back facing Peter as her broken voice cut through the thick silence. "I _hate_ these jeans." Darcy paused for a moment, blinking back the tears that once again threatened to fall from her dark, doleful eyes. "What kind of person freaks out because they can't wear the pants that they don't even want to wear?"

The blond remained silent, but she hadn't really expected an answer to the rhetorical question.

"I'm crazy, Peter," Darcy said miserably, finally surrendering and watching as the shimmer of a lone tear trailed down to the tip of her nose. She heard shuffling noises in the background and felt the bed dip behind her. The brunette tensed immediately in response to the action.

"You're not crazy, Darcy," he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her waist. The gentle touch was enough to relax her, and she placed her small hands over the larger ones that met around her middle. "You're just going through a lot right now. And you're stressed. Stress can make you freak out for like no reason…"

"I'm just so tired of feeling this way," she whispered, "I just want everything to go back to the way it used to be."

"I know." There was a brief hiatus before he spoke again, "Do you want to know why I treat you differently?" Without waiting for the girl's response, Peter continued, "I'm scared." He paused. "I almost lost you back in January. You said you did it because you were sad, and you're still sad, and it scares the shit out of me. I just want you to get better. I want to make you feel better…" _But nothing I do ever seems to work._

"I'm sorry I scared you, Peter," she murmured, her voice small, tone childlike, as she began to caress his hands with her thumbs.

"It isn't your fault."

"Do you miss the old me? The way I used to be?" Darcy asked quietly, after a period of silence. "Tell me… and be honest," she urged, when Peter had not replied.

"I miss your smile, and your laugh, and the way you used to tease me, and roll your eyes at my stupid jokes…" he trailed off, not wanting to upset the girl in his arms.

"I wish she would come back too," she said wistfully.

"She will."

"I hope so…" Darcy murmured. As she felt Peter's arms tighten around her, she began to surrender to the overwhelming fatigue. All she could focus on were the two arms around her, the familiar smell of his cologne, the sounds of low breathing from behind her, and the tickle of his breath against her ear when he exhaled.

"Darcy?"

"Hmm?"

"I still love you… even if you're not the same."

She felt the corners of her lips curve upwards in an uncontainable smile, "I love you too, Peter."

* * *

**First off, I want to apologize for taking two months to update... There have been so many tests, projects, and papers, I haven't even had time to breathe. Yeah... It's been extremely stressful. Here's a fun little fact about this chapter: the whole Darcy throwing her bag at the wall was actually inspired by me throwing my cell phone at the wall two weeks ago. It still works... so no worries... Anywho, I will try to update as soon as I possibly can. Cause, seriously, this fic's birthday was freaking three days ago and I have eighteen chapters and I'm not even close to being done.**

**Second, thank you for all the reviews. You guys are awesome... hopefully you're still reading this story...**

**And finally, let me just say that Pia (Peter/Mia) depresses me. A lot. So this fic will serve to counteract its evil. And you can expect two more Parcy fics from me in the near future.**

**Also, I got a review the other day suggesting that I incorporate Johnny into this. And I love the idea, so muchos gracias to you.**

**I think that's it... I'm done rambling...**

**Review por favor.**


End file.
